AN: I'm hoping to post once a week for this. Big thanks to my beta reader, shelter!

Irene sat at her kitchen table after agonizing over what to wear for far too long. She hated that she cared. The old her wouldn't have cared. The old her wore ridiculous leather straps that served no purpose. Frustrated, Irene tossed her head, shaking away the thought.

Teresa had said seven. It was six twenty.

After an eternity, her phone rang, and she answered it hurriedly. "Hello?"

"Hey. I'm outside your building. Are you ready?"

"Just about." So she didn't seem too eager.

"Okay, well hurry up. It's been too long since I've seen you."

"I'm on my way down." She shoved her phone in her purse and trotted down the stairs and into the crisp night air.

Teresa was waiting for her at the curb, leaning against the hood of a black sports car. She was wearing jeans that looked just as good as Irene had imagined. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her slim neck, and Irene felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself." Teresa smiled and pushed herself off the car. "Ready?"

"I didn't expect you to drive yourself."

"I'm not a diva," Teresa said with a raised brow and an amused smirk. "Let's get going." She opened the passenger side for Irene and ushered her in.

"I was half expecting a herd of paparazzi," Irene admitted.

Teresa grimaced. "It's not unheard of." She sighed tiredly. "I know it's part of the deal, but, it can be really fucking weird to have people follow you all the time. But they're actually a lot better here than in L.A. Something about New Yorkers. They don't really care who you are."

Irene nodded. That much was true. Her ears rarely garnered her much attention on the streets. And if she thought about it, Teresa had not mentioned them at all, either. Her eyes had not lingered.

"Well, I'm glad they didn't show up." Irene looked out the window as they drove. She wondered where Teresa was going to park her car as they started to get caught in uptown traffic. "I'm not one to have my personal life spread all over the magazines."

Teresa pursed her lips and glanced over. "Irene," she began slowly. "I do my best to keep my personal life out of the press, and I think I've done pretty well with my daughter, but you should know going into this that a….a relationship of any kind with me, no matter how casual or how serious, even just a friendship, is going to get attention. If you can't handle that, then I might as well turn around and take you back home now."

Irene knew this decision was weighty. She also knew that the thought of never seeing Teresa again tore at her heart in a way that made no sense to her at all.

"I know it's not fair to ask that of you," Teresa continued, "but I wanted to be up front about it. So that you're prepared. I've never dated a woman before, so if we go that route, it's bound to cause a stir. Are you okay with that? Because I really do like you."

"I won't lie," Irene replied. "It's not something I would want for myself. I'm only in the public eye enough to get donors for the Foundation. But…I can't imagine going home now."

"I'm really glad to hear that, Irene." Teresa smiled at her before looking out the window and pulling up to the curb in front of a small, sleepy looking bar.

"This is not what I was expecting," Irene said, surveying the establishment.

"Oh?" Teresa sounded intrigued. "And what were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Something swanky. Or maybe more of a club."

"I haven't really been a clubber since I had Clare."

Her daughter.

"No, I suppose having a child wouldn't lend itself to that lifestyle." Irene wanted to ask what the girl was doing now while her mother was out, but she did not think that was her place.

"I wouldn't trade it for anything," Teresa said softly. "Anyway, let's go inside."

They seated themselves in one of the back booths and ordered drinks while they looked over the menu. Irene knew she needed a clear head and only ordered water. Teresa got a martini after Irene assured her it was fine.

"Did you close the Brown account?" Teresa asked after they had placed their orders.

"Yes. I think it all worked out rather well. We should be seeing an increase next quarter."

"So you must bring in quite a lot every year. I mean, that place you're living is pretty swanky."

"I do pretty well for myself," she said neutrally.

"Come on," Teresa insisted. "How much? I'll tell you mine."

"Money isn't important to me."

Teresa raised a brow. "Spoken like someone who's always had it."

Irene's lips parted, ready to snap back, but she knew Teresa was right. "Perhaps. But I try to use it to help people."

"I know." Teresa's voice was soft, sincere, almost apologetic. "When I was in high school, my older sister got really sick. We didn't have a lot, and what we did have was spent on her. My mom couldn't work, she was always taking care of her. I'm always torn between using what I have now to help and that small voice in the back of my mind that wants to horde it all, just in case."

Irene knew she could not understand or relate. Her family had always been wealthy, incredibly so, and she had never wanted for any earthly comfort. "I'm sorry. About your sister. I can't imagine what a loss like that does to a family."

"It's impossible, you know?" Teresa's mouth quirked, and she looked down at her drink. "People think because I'm rich and famous and beautiful that I don't have pain. But I had to watch my parents bury their daughter. I lost my big sister. And the medical bills…That was the first thing I paid off after my big break."

"I pour a lot of money into the Foundation. It doesn't just pay for research. We also pay bills for those who can't. Or at least try to help them." She shook her head. "I don't do enough."

"Hey, you do a lot. That's why I asked to be invited to your gala."

"I thought the board approached you?" Irene asked with a frown.

"Oh, no. I had my agent contact them. You'd be surprised at how hard it is for people to take me seriously. No one thinks I can actually be passionate about something."

Irene swallowed, knowing she had been one of those people. "I suppose they just have to get to know you."

"Regardless, I think I'll increase my donation."

"You're already one of the most generous donors," Irene said, touched. She also felt guilty for her earlier assumptions that Teresa had only come to the Gala for her own publicity. It seemed she had more depth than that. "You want to make sure your daughter still has something left to inherit."

"Clare is already going to start off with more than anyone should." Teresa paused as their food arrived. She poured ketchup on her plate before continuing. "I want her to always know how lucky she is. I have a hard enough time remembering myself. She's never known anything different. I was already established when she was born. I want her to know humility."

"I think that's good. You don't want her to end up like a Kardashian."

Teresa snorted. "No, somehow I can't see Clare being an influencer."

"I don't know much about children," Irene admitted. "My brother is older than me, and, well, I've never had the opportunity to start a family."

She shifted uncomfortably, realizing for the first time that if she pursued anything with Teresa, Clare was part of that deal. She would have to accept that responsibility.

"Clare is...it's hard to put into words." Teresa had a far away look on her face, and Irene watched her with a burning, bubbling jealousy that tasted sour in her throat. Clare would ruin everything, take everything.

Irene blinked. Why had she thought that? Clare was not her competition. Clare was Teresa's daughter, and the child would always come first, as it should be. At her age, it was more and more likely that anyone she dated would have children from previous relationships.

Teresa was still talking, oblivious to Irene's turmoil. "Being a mom is both the most rewarding and challenging thing I've ever done. And I do mean challenging. Sometimes I just want to drop her off at her dad's and leave her there until she's twenty-five. That or boarding school."

"Don't send her to boarding school," Irene said before she could stop herself.

"Oh?"

"Oh. Um, yes. I...my parents sent me away, and...it can be challenging." Which was an understatement. In fact, it had been the worst part of her life, the time when her hallucinations had really started. The part where she had suffered severe depression, had been hospitalized after a failed suicide attempt. She swallowed and looked down at her lap. Great, what a fantastic impression she must be making.

"Irene." She looked up at Teresa's gentle voice. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later. I don't want to scare you off just yet." She tried to make light of it, but Teresa did not smile.

"You won't. I promise." She stared at Irene intently until the other woman looked away.

God, Teresa made her feel so much, and she did not feel equipped to decipher what it all meant.

"It's not something I like to talk about." It was not a lie. She did not even like discussing it with her therapist. It was a dark time she just wanted to forget. Since then, she had done everything and accomplished everything she had set out to do. There was no reason to dwell on the past.

"All right." Teresa let the subject drop. "Hey, why don't we get out of here and just go back to my place?"

Irene couldn't speak for a moment before her brain caught up. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"That was the idea, yes." Teresa grinned, and Irene had to remind herself to breathe.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," she said, hoping she sounded smooth instead of scared. "I don't put out on the first date."

"That's a shame," Teresa said, shaking her head. "I think you would have looked really lovely naked in my bed." Irene tried to cover the squeak that escaped her mouth with a cough, but she knew Teresa was not fooled. "I guess I'll just have to make sure there's a second date."

"I would like to see your place, though. Maybe it can just be a coffee."

"I can do coffee," Teresa said. She called over the waitress and asked for the check.

"Is this together or separate?"

"Together, give it to me," Teresa said before Irene could even reach for her wallet.

After she paid, Teresa led the way back to her car. Irene was curious to see where she lived, but part of her was a little nervous. She could not work through all of the confusion Teresa made her feel. One moment, everything felt easy and comfortable and so very good, and the next Irene was plagued by doubts and a fear that bordered on terror, the kind of terror that was only brought about through extreme trauma. Sure, she'd had bad relationships. She'd been strung along, cheated on, the works. But this was different. This wasn't nervousness that Teresa would be the same. This was a primal, guttural fear, strangling her lungs. An inescapable demon set to kill her, an arm ripped from her with impossible speed. This was a fear she could not shake.

"Actually, Teresa," she piped up, subconsciously rolling her left shoulder to prove it was still there. "Could you just take me home? I'm feeling a bit tired." And she needed to think.

"Oh, uh, sure." Teresa looked out the windshield, not meeting Irene's eyes. "Yes. Okay."

"Teresa-"

"No, it's okay." Teresa cut her off. Her body was strangely stiff. "You don't need to explain. I was too pushy." Then she muttered as an afterthought, "Too soon."

"Teresa, I just need time to think, okay?"

She was on edge about how scary the thought of not seeing Teresa again was. It was all so intense, so deep and real. This was something she needed to work through with a clear head.

"I have a lot of things to think about. I do want to see you again. I…" She took a deep breath before plunging in, knowing, somehow, that Teresa would understand. "I've never had this kind of connection with someone before, and it's just...it's a lot. Just give me a couple of days. If you haven't heard from me by Monday, then you have my permission to call me."

"Oh." Teresa relaxed visibly. "Okay. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."

"It's all right. I should have been more clear." Irene folded her hands in her lap. "This isn't normal is it?"

"What?"

"This...whatever this is." She glanced back at Teresa, gesturing between them. "I mean, I feel like I've known you my entire life, and I don't even know what your favorite color is."

Teresa chuckled. "It's green. And you should know, I'm a huge football fan. Hardcore. Love my Texans."

"Really?"

"Yep. Clare and I go to as many games as we can."

"I like figure skating, and not just during the Olympics," Irene admitted. "And my favorite color is red."

"There," Teresa said with triumph. "Now we've covered the typical first date conversation. Do you feel better now?"

"Marginally." The car pulled up to her home, and she moved to get out. As she shut her door, Teresa exited the car and walked around the front to stand before her.

"Is it all right if I give you a goodnight kiss?"

Irene tensed, torn between her terror and desire.

"Yes," she breathed, heart pounding.

Teresa looked up and down the street, probably searching for paparazzi, before leaning in to gently brush her lips against Irene's. It was short and chaste, but it left tingles running down her spine. Irene wanted more, but Teresa pulled back, smiling softly.

"Thank you," Teresa said with a smile.

"For what?"

"For the best first date I've ever had."

"All your other ones must have been completely awful, then."

"Pretty much." She smiled a little wider before heading back to the driver's side. "Remember to call me this time. If you don't, I won't leave you alone on Monday." And then she and the car were gone, leaving Irene standing on the sidewalk with her fingers against her lips.

Irene spent the next two days fretting about what to do. It did occur to her that there was a possibility that Teresa was doing this as a publicity stunt. It seemed unlikely, but she really did not know the woman well enough to say for sure. It was something celebrities sometimes did, and even though she did not get that vibe from Teresa, the paranoid part of her said to be extremely careful. Irene knew she would not be able to handle being used in such a way.

Additionally, she was starting to see a pattern between her nightmares and Teresa. It was only on days she had seen or talked to Teresa that her dreams went to that dark, vivid, alternate space. The one that somehow felt more real than her waking life. A side effect of her medication, she thought.

On Saturday, she purposely filled her day with things that did not relate to Teresa Blackwell, and failed miserably when her favorite newsstand was selling magazines with Teresa on the cover, smiling brightly at all who passed. She bought one. The article inside was all about how Teresa balanced acting and her career with being a single parent. She sounded so sincere and down to earth and Irene could not help frowning as she read. Something about Clare rubbed a raw nerve, but she tried to brush it aside. How pathetic was it to be jealous of someone's child? She would just have to move past it.

On Sunday, after a few hours of work in her home office, she took her sketchbook to Central Park and sat under a tree drawing all day. When she looked back at them later, almost all of her sketches were of Teresa.

So on Monday during her lunch break, she queued up Teresa's number, locked the door of her office, and pressed "call." It rang six times before the voicemail picked up.

"Hello, you've reached Teresa's phone. I'm either asleep, with the kid, or I just don't like you. If you fall into that last category, and that means you Meryl, then don't bother leaving a message. For everyone else, you know what to do."

After the tone, Irene took a deep breath. "Hello, Teresa. It's Irene Winters." She grimaced. Duh. "I called you like I promised." Duh again. "Do you really hate Meryl Streep? I always got the impression she was nice. Anyway, I um...well, I'd like to see you again so…just call me back. Oh, but not until later tonight, if that's okay. I have a lot of work to get through today. A lot of meetings. So...yes. Call me later." After she hung up, she stared at the phone, wishing that she had said almost everything differently. "I am such an idiot."

She spent the rest of the day obsessively checking her phone to see if Teresa had called her back. Amidst all of her meetings, she could think of nothing else. It was noticeable, and Flora pulled her aside to ask her if she was all right.

"I'm fine. Just a bit preoccupied."

"If you're sure, Ms. Winters?"

"I am." Her tone held a finality that Flora knew better than to challenge. She gave a nod and retreated to her desk, shooting Irene one last questioning look before returning to work.

Finally, around six-thirty, after most people had left and she had sent Flora home, her phone lit up, buzzing against the glass of her desk. The noise startled her and she dropped her pen in her haste to answer.

"Hello?"

"Meryl is actually a friend of mine. We enjoy giving each other a hard time."

"Didn't she win an Oscar over you?" Irene smiled as her heart rate slowed to a normal pace.

"Her? No. That year we were both beat out by Cate Blanchett." Teresa chuckled.

"Well, I don't really pay much attention to celebrities, but she's one I don't find completely irritating." Irene decided that she might as well head home now. She would not get much more work done that night. Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she packed up her briefcase and slipped on the pumps that she had taken off earlier before flicking off the lights and heading out.

"Oh, is that so? What did you think about me?"

Irene debated what to say, not sure if the truth would go over well. But she knew she always wanted to be honest with Teresa. After all, hadn't little white lies been what destroyed them the first time around?

"Honestly?" she began, wishing the intrusive thoughts would leave her alone. "I hadn't paid all that much attention to you."

"Ouch. I'm hurt." She could tell that Teresa was teasing, though.

"I actually think this is a good thing," Irene explained. "That way I don't have unrealistic expectations. I mean, you don't want to date someone who expects you to be perfect all the time, do you?"

"Not really. You are very wise, Irene Winters."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks." She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. "But I did always think you were good at what you did. Not like that hack, Meryl Streep." She smiled wryly as Teresa laughed on the other end.

"Okay. It's official. I can't wait until the weekend to see you again. Do you have any free time for lunch tomorrow or Wednesday?"

"I'll have to check with Flora, but I think I can do lunch Wednesday." Eating together in the middle of the day, however, meant that there was a much greater chance of them being seen. Irene sighed, the knot of nerves already forming in her stomach.

"What is it, Irene?"

"I'm just concerned about...I need to feel secure in this before I can handle being dragged through the tabloids." The remnants of another conversation lingered below the surface. They had talked about this before, long ago, Irene realized. A conversation about whether or not seeing each other was worth the risk. But a risk that was so much greater than tabloid gossip.

"Can I do anything to make you feel more secure?" Teresa's voice grew low and serious, pulling Irene back to reality. "Because I really want to be able to take you places, and not have you worried all the time."

Irene took a deep breath, composing herself as she stepped into the lobby. She lowered her voice so that no prying ears could hear.

"I need to know something, and I need you to not be offended that I asked."

"Okay."

"Is this just some publicity stunt?" Silence met her. "I mean, are you just pretending to be bi so that you can get the publicity and then dump me once you've gotten enough press?" More silence. Irene bit her lip as she hailed a cab. "Please don't take this the wrong way. It's just something I had to ask."

"I understand." Irene let out the breath she had been holding. Teresa did not sound mad or hurt. "Sometimes I forget that most people don't have to deal with everything I do. I guess I should look at this from your perspective, too. This isn't a stunt. I mean...you're so much...more than anyone I've ever been with, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you."

"Okay. That's all I needed to hear. Thank you."

"So is that a 'yes' for lunch?"

"It is. I'll make room in my schedule." She opened the door to a cab and told her address to the driver before leaning back against the seat. "I had a lot of time to think over the weekend, and I am fully prepared to do this with you." Because not doing this, not being with Teresa, was more terrifying than facing a thousand youma.

Youma? What the hell-

"I'm really happy about that. Very happy." Irene heard a small voice in the background ask what was for dinner and was startled to realize that the owner must be Teresa's daughter. The now familiar jealousy reared its head, and Irene forgot all about whatever the hell a youma was to try and quash it. "Can you hold on just a sec? Clare's being needy."

"Sure." She heard what she thought was the sound of Teresa putting down the phone, and there was some murmuring. Irene glanced out the window of the cab as she waited, watching the passing lights of the city. She could hear Teresa and Clare decide on macaroni and cheese, the girl squealing excitedly, and Teresa laughing. It was such a beautiful laugh. The cab stopped in front of her building and she paid the driver. She was halfway up the stairs when Teresa got back on.

"Sorry about that. Growing girl and all."

"Of course. That's perfectly fine." She dropped her briefcase in the front hall and kicked off her shoes. "If you need to go, that's okay, too." Because she would be damned if she let herself be taken by some stupid juvenile need to come first in Teresa's life.

"No, not yet," Teresa insisted. "Clare's going to make her own food tonight. She knows how. I'm just going to supervise her."

"How old is she?" If she and Teresa ever got serious, she supposed Clare would become a big part of her life. She did not know if she was ready for a child.

"How old are you now, Clare?" Teresa called. "Twenty-five, thirty?" Clare giggled in the background and Irene heard her answer that she was eleven, and then she called Teresa silly. "She says she's eleven, but I'm not sure. I think she might be lying to me. She can't be a day younger than twenty." Clare giggled again, and Irene's chest tightened painfully. She could tell that Teresa was putting on a show for the girl, and the interaction was so...natural. It wasn't fair. Not after all the work Irene had put into this…

She shook her head. No, there hadn't been any work yet. Why did she keep thinking that?

"Well, I certainly would not have been able to cook anything on my own when I was eleven," she confessed. "In fact, I'm not much of a cook now. I mostly eat frozen meals when I'm at home."

"With all that money?" Teresa sounded surprised. "You don't even have a cook?"

"This isn't L.A.," she reminded Teresa. "I'm a single woman in her thirties. I don't have any use for a cook."

"You don't have to be single for much longer, if you don't want to."

"We've only had one date," Irene said, startled but thrilled. "You want to make it official already?"

"Well, I won't send out a public statement or anything," Teresa promised. "At least not until you're ready. But...I don't want to be dating anyone else, so...I'd like it if we could just go ahead and call ourselves exclusive."

"That...that would be good for me, too." Exclusive. She was in an exclusive relationship with Teresa Blackwell, Oscar-nominated actress, one of People Magazine's most beautiful. She wondered when she would wake up from this strange dream she had been thrust into. Because there was no way this was real.

"Okay. Good. I have to go now. I don't let anything get in the way of my dinner time with Clare."

"Of course." It came out almost a growl. Teresa, thankfully, did not notice.

"I'll see you Wednesday. Should I call you before then?"

"I would like that very much."

"Okay. Then I will call you sometime tomorrow. Goodnight, Irene."

"Goodnight, Teresa." She hung up, hand pressed to her stomach, unable to shake the feeling that this would all end in horror and blood.