The next morning, Luis and Sheridan were gathered in the room that she and Gwen were sharing. Over the past few days, they had hatched the beginning of many a half-baked plan, but had been unable to get very far on the little information they currently possessed. As they worked so closely together, sitting across from each other at the small table located in one corner of the room, they could both feel an unspoken, unacknowledged tension in the air, crackling like electricity. Occasionally, one of them would glance at Sheridan's bed and, embarrassed, awkwardly avert their eyes as quickly as they could.

Right now, however, both of their minds were occupied not with thoughts of each other, but of ever-increasing anxiety over the safety of Hank and Gwen, who had not come back at all that night. As the hours went by, they became increasingly sure that something awful had happened to them.

Not able to take just sitting around anymore, Luis slammed his fist hard into the table's surface, causing the flimsily made piece of furniture to shudder violently. "Damn it!" he shouted to the air, "They were supposed to get back here hours ago! I'm a cop; I should have been the one doing the recon here, not them. If anything's happened, it's all my fault."

"Now don't go and feel sorry for yourself!" Sheridan snapped, more out of raw nerves than any actual frustration with Luis. "You know that you would've jeopardized the whole mission by doing so, and feeling guilty isn't going to help right now. Who knows, maybe they're okay, and are following some hot trail, or they're…" Sheridan's eyes opened up widely, "standing right here."

Indeed, Gwen and Hank had appeared in the threshold, somewhat the worse for wear. Clothes badly wrinkled, hair disheveled, and each sporting a dazed expression which, along with the telltale bags under their eyes, indicated that they had not gotten very much sleep the night before. Despite the mess that they looked, however, they did not appear at all distressed or unhappy. Seeing the two, Luis and Sheridan practically leaped up and dashed over to greet them.

"Thank goodness you're alright," Sheridan cried, hugging Gwen.

"Yeah," Luis added, relieved. "When you didn't check in, we thought you'd been captured or killed or hurt or something."

Gwen and Hank looked at each other guiltily. "Well, not exactly," Hank began to explain sheepishly. "The thing is, you see, we, um, it sort of happened that…with everything going on, we kind of decided to, um, and then we, well…"

"We got married," Gwen interrupted finally.

"WHAT?!" Sheridan and Luis both yelled in perfect unison as they stared incredulously at their friends, jaws dropped.

"Well," Gwen started, "we found out where Antonio's being kept—"

"Great!" Luis exclaimed. "Where is he?"

Hank went over everything that had happened, ending with, "and then they walked off and left us alone."

"Oookay," Sheridan intoned, still very confused. "I got everything you said, but that really doesn't explain how you're married now."

Gwen laughed nervously. "After nearly getting killed, you see, it sort of hit me how much danger we're all in, and Hank tried to comfort me, and one thing led to another…"

"I don't know what got into me," Hank confessed, "but suddenly I found myself asking Gwen to marry me, and somehow she said yes, so we went to a justice of the peace, and eloped."

They all stood in an awkward silence for a good length of time, until Luis finally said, "Well, congratulations, I guess, though I still don't know what drugs you two must've been doing. Anyway," he continued, thinking it best to change the subject for now, "Thanks to you two, we've got a fair amount of information to go on. We know where Antonio is, and which boat is being loaded up with the arms. On top of that, we know that they're planning to make the first run in two weeks, so we know how much time that we have."

"That's great and all, but we still have no clue about what that move will be," Sheridan pointed out.

Luis remained unflustered. "True, but I think that it's obvious that we're gonna have to do. Some time before they make the run, we'll have to highjack the boat. Problem is, there are two things that we don't know: one, where the rest of the contraband is being stored, and two, when we'd have the best chance at gaining control of the boat. Now, the first problem isn't all that important, since the police will probably be able to find that out alright, especially if we're able to take one of them with us. But, I don't know how we're gonna solve the second problem."

They all stood in confounded silence for a minute, until Hank got an idea. "Say, Luis, I'm pretty sure they couldn't actually see our faces. Maybe Gwen and I can hang around the harbor again, this time at a good distance though, and see if we can find Antonio alone; he might know something. I doubt they're guarding him that closely, since they know he won't do anything that he thinks might risk your or Sheridan's life. "

Luis let out a low whistle. "I don't know, Hank; you'd be taking a big risk, you'd better know that."

"What do you say, Gwen?" Hank asked. "Are you willing to chance it?

Gwen thought for a second. Sure, it'd be dangerous, but so was everything else about this mission they were on. "Yeah, let's do it."

"Okay, if you two are really willing to take this risk, I suppose it could turn out to be a big help." Luis had given up trying to argue: everyone around him really was crazy, and he'd just have to accept it. Sensing that the new couple probably didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of people, he continued, "Well, if that's everything for now, I guess we're done. Sheridan, how about getting some breakfast at the café?"

Sheridan nodded, instantly grasping why they were really leaving. Although she was dying to get Gwen alone and find out exactly how everything stood, she supposed she'd get a chance to do that later. "See you later, you two," she said as she and Luis left.

The meeting over, and Sheridan and Luis departed, Hank sat down next to Gwen on her bed. "So, Gwen, since we rushed out of that motel so fast earlier, we haven't really had a chance to talk about what happened last night."

Gwen sighed, knowing that this conversation was inevitable. "What is there to talk about?"

Hank raised an eyebrow in her direction. "We got married, Gwen, and then, well, we had a wedding night, which was amazing, by the way," his eyes twinkled a little as we said this last bit. "But, we've gotta decide what to do now. Do we try and make it work, or call it a mistake and get it taken care of so we can go on with our lives."

Gwen chose her next words carefully. She knew her hasty decision to elope had been ill-advised, and that was an enormous understatement. And now, this man sitting right next to her was her husband. Husband. That word sounded strange, even without saying it out loud; in her heart, she'd never imagined that term applying to anyone but Ethan. Somehow, though, it didn't quite feel wrong, and she truly didn't know whether or not she regretted marrying Hank. She supposed that, in the end, she wouldn't know until their adventure was over, but, as she reminded herself pragmatically, the death of one or both of them would most likely make this all a moot point.

Laying her head on his chest, Gwen frowned doubtfully. "I thought we agreed not to talk about any of this now, to just take it one moment at a time."

"Yeah, I know we did, but," Hank started to object, but was halted by Gwen, who reached out with her hands and gently pulled him down into a long, slow kiss.

"No questions?" she whispered when they pulled apart for a second.

"No questions," he conceded, gazing into her eyes hungrily, and drew her down onto the bed with him.

*****

Charity ran into the Bennett living room, her face tormented by the vision she'd just had. Everyone else was already there, for some reason or another. John was there, playing checkers with Miguel. David had been at the house, but, as was increasingly usual for him, some mysterious business was forcing him ti leave. Sam busied himself reading the paper. Grace and Jessica were pouring over bridal magazines in order to give Charity ideas. Laura sat with them, half paying attention, though she was really occupied with the amazingly gaudy painting Grace had just bought to hang above the fireplace. A big, cheerful chicken, Laura thought, revolted but unable to take her eyes off of it. My God, she actually made a chicken painting the centerpiece of the whole room. It was incredible; in her experience, only Rebecca Hotchkiss had taste this atrocious. She couldn't just get a nice Renoir or Van Gogh print? My old art history teacher would have a heart attack if he could see this.

At the sight of Charity so distressed, Grace and Miguel rushed instantly over to her, and began the familiar comforting ritual. "Something REALLY horrible is going to happen, I'm sure of it," Charity declared. This time, though, she wouldn't stand for any attempts to talk away what she'd seen. "No, sorry, but there's no way I'm wrong. There was something else, though; I got the feeling that there's actually something I can do this time, but I really think that I've got to get married as soon as possible!"

"What?" asked Grace, not following her niece.

"Huh?" said Miguel, totally lost by this point.

"If we don't get married as soon as possible, we never will," Charity insisted.

"I don't get it Charity, but if you want to get married right away, that's fine with me," Miguel assured her placidly.

"How soon do you want to?" Grace asked.

"Do you think we can have things ready in a few days, Aunt Grace?"

Grace took in a sharp breath. She hadn't expected it to be quite that soon, but the urgency of Charity's inquiry prompted her to answer in the affirmative. "I think we can just manage it. But, I'm warning you, it won't be anything fancy at all—"

Charity hugged Grace fiercely, her mood greatly uplifted. "Oh, thank you! And, I don't care if it's simple."

Charity then approached Laura and Jessica. "I don't know what came over me, yesterday. I was going to ask you sooner, but Jessica, will you be my maid of honor?"

Jessica smiled, flattered. "Of course I will!"

"Thank you so much," Charity responded sweetly. "And, Laura, I know we haven't exactly known each other that long, but I'd really like you to be a bridesmaid. I understand if you don't want to—"

Although Laura still thought this whole thing was demented, she couldn't say no to such a sincerely made request. "I'd love to, Charity."

"Oh, I'm so happy! Let's see, I'll also ask Simone, and Kay if I can get a hold of her…" and Charity trailed off, her uneasiness quickly forgotten as her mind filled with preparations for the wedding she just knew had to take place immediately.

As soon as she could, Grace once again pulled Laura aside, ignoring the fairly infuriated expression that was plain on Sam's face. "Laura, are you planning on using being a bridesmaid as a way to get closer to Miguel?" Grace asked seriously.

Laura had only been this irritated once or twice in her life. "No! Do you want me to tell her I can't do it, because I will if you insist like this!"

Grace stared at her in disbelief. "Of course not! This is Charity's special day and she should have anybody that she wants there, and if she wants you to be a bridesmaid, then you should do it."

Laura rolled her eyes. Charity's special day. It wasn't that she disliked Charity; true, her was often incredibly annoying, but she was also one of the most truly good and kind people Laura had ever met, and she didn't realize how tiring she could be. Laura suspected that if she could be made to understand how everyone else was pushed aside for her, she'd be horrified. "Alright, then, I don't see a problem. I'm going to be a bridesmaid, and you want me to be a bridesmaid. Isn't that the end of it?"

Grace searched for exactly the right words. "It's your motive that's troubling me. Yesterday, you seemed against it, and now you're part of the wedding."

"I'm part of the wedding because Charity asked me," Laura explained evenly, grateful that she had, over the years, become an expert at not losing her temper. "Now, I may think that they're making a mistake, but it's their choice, and it's none of my business. I was taken by surprise yesterday, that's all."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why can't you?" Laura fumed. "Why do you just assume that I'm up to something devious here? Okay, I'm new, I get that, but would you have automatically suspected John or Charity like this?"

Grace pursed her lips into a bitchy scowl. "This isn't about Charity or John, Laura."

When Laura gave her reply, it was in a tone not vindictive, nor accusative, but that of a judge calmly evaluating the value of a testimony versus the previously established evidence. "As near as I can tell, Mother, it's always about them, in some way or another. The whole reason we're having this argument is that you've somehow gotten stuck on the idea that I've become a roadblock on the path to Charity's happiness, and nothing I can say is going to change your mind. Now, I'm not asking you to treat me the way you do those two; we've only known each other a few weeks, after all. However, I would like the same chance you'd give anybody else."

"I do not favor anybody here, and who do you think you are to accuse me of something like that?"

"I am your daughter," Laura said simply, now more weary of this whole conversation than she was angry. "I know you'd rather I wasn't, for various reasons, but here we are, whether we like it or not. I realize I don't fit in here, no more than I did in my old life, nor any more than it sounds like Kay belonged in this house. I can get along without a mother; I managed pretty well before, but I'd rather not have you as an enemy for as stupid a reason as this. I'm going to go now, but before I do, I just want to give you some advice: why don't you pay some attention to Jessica?"

Grace narrowed her eyes. "What does Jessica have to do with this?"

"Oh, nothing directly. I don't care so much, as long as I'm left alone, but your favoring Charity and John is really hurting her deeply."

Grace was about to protest, but Laura cut her off. "Oh, she won't let you see it, but don't you know her well enough to see that that's just her way of dealing? She loves them, but this feeling of invisibility is slowly killing her, or driving her crazy, or both."

Grace was dumbfounded for a good long moment, as she began to be pricked by little inklings of doubt and guilt. Unwilling to admit her possible culpability, she brushed off Laura's words. "Well, I've got to admit it; you're very clever in a pinch. So, I'll go and focus on Jessica, who's perfectly fine, leaving you free to pursue Miguel."

If Grace had slapped Laura across the face with every ounce of her strength, she could not have stung her daughter more. "No, that's not the reason! Jessica really loves you, and she's in pain, and I told you this because I happen to like her, not to further some scheme of mine. I don't know what I've done to make you think I'm like that."

With a critically wounded dignity, Laura walked up the stairs, leaving Grace to tell herself that she didn't ignore Jessica or hold her son and niece on a pedestal. Sam, meanwhile, could only glare at his wife, witnessing a side of her that he never had seen before, and which he did not like at all.

*****

"Mi hija, you know I can't accept this," Pilar declared as Theresa, carrying Ethan Martin, opened the door to the brand new Lopez-Fitzgerald home.

"Yes, of course you can, Mama," Theresa replied, dragging her mother around on a tour of the house. "I know you're going to go on and on about 'evil Crane money,' but really, after working for them all these years, don't you deserve it?" Theresa was ecstatic to be able to do this for her family, and only wished that she could have brought the rest of them here for the grand unveiling, but with Luis and Antonio missing, Paloma still living in Mexico, and Miguel in permanent residence at the Bennett house and attached to Charity at the hip, only her mother was available.

"You're right, I am going to go on and on about not taking Crane money," Pilar insisted, refusing to be impressed by the nice size and tasteful décor of the place. "It's tainted by evil, just like the family, and I only wish there was a way for you to break free of them."

Theresa became silent for a second, and Pilar was instantly sorry that she had said that. "You know I wish I could too, Mama, but you also know that I can't," she said quietly, cuddling her baby. "And, the Cranes aren't all bad. Sheridan, wherever she is, is one, and so is Little Ethan here. You certainly don't think he's evil, do you?"

Smiling in spite of herself, Pilar patted her grandson's head. "Of course I don't. There are some good Cranes, but that doesn't mean that their money isn't evil."

Theresa rolled her eyes. "You raised us on Crane money, Mama."

"That's different. I came by that through honest work."

"Well, after all that they have done to our family, don't you think that they owe us a place to live? And besides," Theresa smiled the smile of one who knew she was delivering the clincher to an irrefutable argument, "you've been living at Grace's Bed and Breakfast. Do you know how much money you must be losing her? Can you really do that, take up a room, two rooms when Luis is there, indefinitely and for free?"

"No, I can't," Pilar said slowly.

"Well, then, wouldn't you rather live here, in a house under your own name, than in the Crane mansion itself? And, who knows, now that the family has a house again, maybe Paloma can come home."

"That would be wonderful," Pilar admitted. "Oh, alright, Theracita, you win. I'll accept your gift."

"Thank you!" Theresa squealed happily. "Now, if you'll just let me convince you to give up this job of yours—"

Pilar shook her head and crossed her arms, indicating that there would be no more concessions on her part. "No, I am keeping my position as head housekeeper. You're wasting your time trying o convince me otherwise."

"Okay," Theresa conceded, deciding to pick her battles. "So, do you like how everything looks?"

"I love it. The house is absolutely beautiful. You must've spent so much time picking everything out."

Theresa took a seat on the living room sofa, and beckoned her mother to sit down with her. "I had a blast doing it. It was a great diversion. Speaking of which," Theresa's eyes now shone with a slightly maniacal gleam, "I'm trying to find the perfect way to bring down Ivy, and I thought that you might have some good ideas."

Pilar backed off, startled that her daughter would ask such a thing. "No, I don't, and I wouldn't tell you if I did. You should be ashamed of yourself, for plotting like this!"

Theresa was completely floored. "Me ashamed?! After everything she's done to me? I don't think so!"

"That doesn't mean you have to sink down to her level. Anyways, I've noticed a change in her. I think she's feeling guilty about everything she's done."

Theresa was not swayed whatsoever. "Don't tell me her acting somewhat nicer is actually fooling you! Oh, she's behaving different, all right, but that's only because she's up to something."

Pilar sighed. How could she get her daughter to listen to her without revealing that Ivy was suffering from amnesia? "Whatever it is, can't you just show some dignity and not resort to all this scheming and manipulation?"

"Don't you see, Mama, I'm doing this for my own protection. Both Ivy and Rebecca have it in for me, and for myself and my son, I'd better get them before they get me."

*****

"What's going on here?" David asked as he entered Kay's room, though the sick pit in his stomach told him that he already knew the answer. Ivy was sitting near the door in her wheelchair as Kay busied herself by drawing a fairly elaborate diagram out of some chalky substance on the hardwood floor. Even before Ivy started explaining it to him, he knew that they were about to perform the spell that would bring Ivy Crane back into the world.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked earnestly, after Ivy told him about the uncertainties and dangers of the spell. "There could be terrible consequences."

Ivy's countenance was a picture of nervous resolve. "Do you really think things could turn out worse than they are now?" she asked, laughing weakly.

"I guess not," David murmured, wondering if he'd have the strength to stick around and watch the woman he loved disappear, to be replaced by his worst enemy. Finally deciding that he just couldn't up and leave right now, he kneeled down beside her, yearning desperately to tell her how he felt, but recognizing the folly that such an action at this time would be.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" David asked, looking into the depths of Ivy's mesmerizing blue eyes, as if for the last time. In a way, after all, it was; who knew if he would ever again see just that indescribable something ever again that marked them indisputably as belonging to Ivy Winthrop?

"No, David, I'm just about done," Kay scowled at him, looking up from her drawing. "Thanks for the offer," she added in a tone of voice dripping with an insincerity bordering on sarcasm.

A worry line creased Ivy's brow. She'd evidently been noticing this change in Kay who, even at the best of times, was not the most agreeable girl around. Now, the young Crane heir seemed to be getting more disagreeable (and somehow scarier) every time he saw her, a tendency which seemed to be bothering her (is 'future' the proper term in this case?) mother, though there wasn't much she could do about it at present.

"Say, David," Ivy started, looking at him apprehensively.

"Yes, Ivy?"

"It's just that, well, you've done a lot for me during this whole mess, and I'd just like thank you while I have the chance."

David smiled. "It was nothing, Ivy."

Ivy shook her head adamantly. "No, it wasn't. I was your enemy, and you really helped me when I needed someone. I know Kay was blackmailing you into it, but you did so much more than you had to, and I'm grateful for it."

David cupped his hands over hers. "I was happy to do it. Yes, I did, and still do, hate the other you, but that's not how I feel about you." He slowly bent his head down and chastely kissed the back of her right hand, though as he did so, an electric shock seemed to reverberate all through his body.

If Ivy felt a similar sensation, she didn't show it, although his gesture did bring a slight smile to her face. "Thank you, David. I don't know what the other me had on you, or what you might've done in the past, but whatever it might have been, I know that you're a good man. I hope that, afterwards, that I don't keep on blackmailing you, but I might, and if I do, I just want to say that I'm sorry for it, and that—"

But whatever else Ivy wanted to say would forever remain a mystery, because an impatient Kay interrupted, having finished her preparation. Once again spreading some kind of goo on each of Ivy's cheeks, Kay said, "There, it's all set. All that's left is to actually say the words. David, you can stay if you like, but don't distract me in any way."

David nodded, and Ivy rolled over to the position which Kay indicated. Kay herself stood across from Ivy, mentally preparing herself to cast an enchantment. Finally she commandingly spoke the words,

For That One Once Made Younger, By Magicks So Bold

Bring the Soul From the Ether, Now Make This One Old!

Once again, a white cloud enveloped the room, making sight impossible. David kept his focus locked on the spot of Ivy's wheelchair, struggling to make something out. Slowly, the smoke dissipated, and Ivy became visible again, though David's heart stopped when he saw that her head was hanging limply down, and she was lying perfectly still.

"Oh God, Kay," he whispered, thoroughly horrified. "You've killed her!"

Kay shook her head. "No, I haven't. The same thing happened last time. Look at her face; the streaks have disappeared. The spell worked, though what that means exactly, we have no way of knowing until she wakes up."

Cautiously, the two moved closer to the unconscious figure, waiting with baited breath until, finally, the woman opened her eyes, and began examining her surroundings.

*****

While waiting for the spell to be performed, Ivy tried not to think about what it would be like to wake up afterwards. If she had been pressed, however, she would have expected all memory of the past couple of weeks to be blotted out, as the soul of Ivy Crane reclaimed control over the body. What actually happened though, was something else entirely.

When Ivy's eyes opened, a flood of experiences rushed over her, threatening to overwhelm her overcrowded mind. In what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only a few seconds, she desperately tried to sort everything out, to gain some coherent idea of what the hell was going on. When she could make some sense of it, she realized that she could remember everything. In fact, not only was her entirely life up until the original spell now known to her, but she could also recall, to her surprise, the entirety of the interim period as Ivy Winthrop. If she had had time to dwell on this fact, she probably would have found herself wrapped up in an identity crisis of sorts, but as it was, she was soon distracted by Kay's worried questioning.

"Mom? Is that you? Can you remember who you are, or who I am? How much do you remember? Do you—"

"Kay," Ivy laughed, "easy now. Yes, I remember everything, my entire life. Your spell worked."

Profound relief and happiness was clearly written on Kay's face, and she hugged her mother fiercely, murmuring, "I'm so sorry for everything, Mom, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Kay," Ivy whispered, wondering to herself if it was. She didn't know how to feel about anything anymore. Although she could clearly remember being Ivy Crane, and everything she had done as her, somehow she felt different about it all, embarrassment and shame just beginning to creep up on her.

"I'm so glad," Kay began, after they parted. "I was so afraid that it wouldn't work and that I'd make everything worse. How does it feel right now?"

"Strange," Ivy replied, taking another look around her, her eyes resting for a time on David, as an odd mixture of gratitude and guilt swept over her. "I remember everything that happened in between the spells, what it was like not having any memory of over half of my life."

Kay looked taken aback. "Really? I didn't think it would work that way, though I guess it all makes sense if you think about it. Say, I was wondering, now that you're back and everything, do you want to try something else to get Sam Bennett back. I'll be more careful this time, do a lot more research, but I really think we'd be able to do something that could turn the trick."

Ivy stared at her daughter in shock. She had thought, hoped at least, that such a disastrous experiment would convince Kay to give up on this dabbling of hers. Looking into Kay's eyes, though, Ivy could tell that, although she felt bad about this one incident, she had not learned her lesson. Furthermore, Ivy Crane was now absolutely certain about that chill in the girl's demeanor that Ivy Winthrop thought she had detected. Even at a moment like this, when Kay was overcome with positive, caring emotions, Ivy could feel something darker, more deadly about her than she had been able to before the first spell. Something had happened to her in the intervening period which she had not been privy to, of that Ivy was sure. "No, I don't think so, not after this," Ivy finally replied.

"Alright," Kay shrugged. "It's understandable that you wouldn't want to." Then, looking at her wristwatch and gaping in surprise at the hour, made to leave. "I'm really sorry, I wish I didn't have to go now, but there's somewhere really important that I have to get to right now. I'll see you later, and we can talk more then."

On that mysterious pronouncement, Kay hurried off leaving David and Ivy alone. For a long time they remained in an uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say, until David finally pulled up a chair and sat next to Ivy. "So, you really do remember everything, Ivy?"

"Yes, I do," Ivy answered, not looking him directly in the eyes. This is stupid, she suddenly thought to herself. True, I wasn't myself for a while, but that doesn't mean anything has to change. Calling up her inner bitch, she suddenly glared at David in a desperate attempt to reclaim her old ferocity. "But you'd better not think for a second that it's going to be any different now, David. Just because you played suck-up while I was down for the count doesn't mean that you're getting off the hook. In fact, we've got a lot of lost time to make up for now, so you're going to work harder than ever at breaking Sam and Grace up." Ivy had a good deal more to say, but was stopped short when she happened to glance at him and caught a look, not of anger or exasperation, but of hurt, and maybe even sadness in his eyes. She couldn't go on; everything she had been trying to repress suddenly assaulted her again full force. She remembered how many times she had blackmailed him, only now, against her will, she felt absolutely horrible about it.

Ivy recalled, in rapid procession and with a painfully acute accuracy, the rising horror she had felt at discovering each and every terrible thing that she had done: her blackmailing of David, her increasingly despicable schemes to win Sam back, all the times she had threatened Eve, even going so far as to have her daughter drugged, and, last but certainly not least, her complete and utter willingness to act as an accomplice in the attempted murder of Theresa. In a moment of awful clarity, it hit her just what a horrible person she really was, and furthermore, just how much she hated being this way, and how much she hated that she hated being this way.

She broke down, startling David, and heaved out a series of low, wretched sobs as she struggled with this new epiphany. "I'm sorry, David, for everything I've done, you're free."

David raised his eyebrows; this was the last thing he expected to her after her previous tirade. "Free?"

"Yes, I've given up. You don't have to go through with any of this. I won't do anything to you if you stop now."

Not knowing what to say or do, David awkwardly tried to pat her on the back, while he replied, "Thank you, but I don't really know where that came from."

"I just can't do this anymore," Ivy confessed miserably. "I want to be able to so badly, but I just can't. Before, I could scheme and threaten, and I felt nothing. Not a single thing. Now, though, it's like I can remember what it's like to have a real conscience, and it's killing me."

David of course felt sorry for Ivy, but nevertheless found it necessary to hide his joy when he realized that she hadn't just reverted back to the person she had been. "At least this means that you do have one now."

Ivy laughed bitterly. "God, how I wish I didn't. I'd give anything to just not feel this way right now. I want to go back to how I was, but wanting to just makes me hate myself even more. Who am I right now, anyway? I'm different than I was before, somehow, but what exactly has changed?"

Try as he might, David himself could not find an answer to Ivy's frantic questions. He himself didn't know who it was before him, although he did know that, whoever it was, he was still in love with her. That wasn't relevant at the moment, however, so he sat there, wishing that he could do something to help, but knowing that what Ivy really needed was time to come to terms with her dilemma for herself.