AN: As always, thank you to my bet, shelter!

The lunch went off without a hitch, and their faces did not end up in the tabloids the next day, so Irene felt more comfortable agreeing to meet Teresa for lunch again in the future. They did meet again that Saturday while Clare was at her ballet lesson. And then again the following Monday after Irene moved around a few meetings. Flora had raised a brow but said nothing. Wednesday, they met for an early dinner while Clare was home with her nanny.

"So, where does Clare think you are right now?" Irene asked as she pushed her salad around on its plate. They always seemed to meet when Clare was either at school, some kind of lesson, or with her father, which had led Irene to believe that Teresa was not yet ready for her daughter to know of their relationship. Which was simultaneously fine with her and infuriating. Wasn't she good enough to meet this child, even if she didn't want to?

"Eating with you," Teresa replied, stuffing a fork full of lettuce in her mouth.

"Really? I didn't think she knew yet," Irene said casually, though she might have been pleasantly surprised. "It's a bit early, isn't it?"

Teresa shrugged. "I try not to lie to her unless absolutely necessary," she explained. "She's too smart. She sees through it." There was a hint of pride in her voice.

"What does she think?" Irene asked, as if the answer weren't important. She knew that Clare's approval was vital to the future of their budding relationship, no matter how much that stung.

"About what?"

Irene rolled her eyes. "About the economy," she snipped. "About this, of course. About you dating a woman. I mean, you've never indicated to her that you liked women before, have you?"

"No. Not since she was born." Teresa scrunched up her nose, thinking. "Nothing she would have known about, anyway."

"But you told her about me?"

"She knows your name," Teresa began. "And she knows we're more than just friends. Her best friend in LA had two dads, and I always tried to make sure she knew it was all right to be gay."

"So how did she react when you told her?"

Irene had discovered that Teresa really enjoyed talking about Clare. It had taken a little time to get her to open up about her daughter, but once she started, she had trouble stopping. It was to be expected. Teresa was between movies at the moment, and as such, she spent a lot more time with Clare. Irene knew she had to try and make a connection with the girl, despite the bone deep ache that always settled in her right shoulder when Clare was mentioned. Despite the anger, envy, resentment that still invaded her usually sensible thoughts.

"At first she was angry," Teresa said honestly. "And a little confused. Because of her dad, you know, she hadn't considered the possibility of me dating women. Then she decided it was 'cool.' Apparently there are lesbians on some doctor show that her father lets her watch."

"Well, I suppose that's good."

"Yeah, lesbians are big right now, I guess," Teresa said, swirling her wine around in its glass. "But I made sure she knew that she couldn't tell anyone yet. Only her nanny knows."

"My assistant knows," Irene said. "She has to be ready for any sort of damage control. Plus, she's in charge of my schedule."

Teresa nodded, pausing as the waitress brought their food. "That's probably wise," she said once they were alone again. "I should probably tell mine. Or my publicist or something."

Irene smiled, amused. Teresa had told her about all the times her publicist had been the last person to know. "Do you ever tell her anything?"

"Not if I can help it." Teresa returned the smile.

"Then what's the point of paying her?"

"It's so much fun to watch her scramble," Teresa explained. "I know she must hate me, but the money's good, and she likes to tell people that she works for me."

"You must be a huge pain in the ass."

"I do my best."

The next time they met was to help Teresa pick out a new end table for her living room. Clare was with her father. Irene was concerned about them shopping together, but she need not have been. The store closed so that Teresa could shop without being bothered, and she dropped a staggering amount of money on a few pieces.

"That was excessive," Irene commented as the sales clerk went into the back of the store to write up the order.

"It was, wasn't it?" Teresa sighed. "But I do have an eye for mahogany. Almost impossible to find it sustainably sourced."

"Well, I can't fault your taste," Irene said. "Those were beautiful pieces."

Teresa did like the finer things, splurging on expensive rooms even when in hiding...

"It's really one of the few things that I'll spend so much on," Teresa said with a nod, breaking Irene's thoughts.

"That and shoes." Irene raised a brow at Teresa's scandalized look. "Don't give me that look. I know all about your shoe collection."

"How do you know that?" Teresa asked, scandalized.

"I read it in Vogue," Irene replied, unable to keep the smirk from her lips.

Teresa just shook her head as she turned back around to pay for the furniture. "You read too much."

"And you have too many shoes."

It had not really been a date, exactly, but it had been nice.

The only downside of this relationship Irene could see was that she found herself becoming distracted during meetings, doodling sketches of Teresa on her briefs, usually in a strange warrior outfit.

Flora took her aside one day and asked if everything was all right.

"Of course it is," Irene said. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a bit distracted," Flora answered quietly. "I don't want to pry or anything. I know it's not my place, but...is everything going well...personally, I mean?"

"Things are going very well," Irene said slowly. "In fact, I think I might need to sit down with you and talk about what to do if my relationship with Teresa is exposed before we're ready."

"Of course, Ms. Winters."

"You know I hate to ask this," Irene began, "but do you think you might be able to stay a little late tomorrow? I don't want to take time out of the work day for it." She knew the woman had her own life to get back to.

"It's no problem at all," Flora replied with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Flora." Irene's sincerity surprised the both of them.

Flora's cheeks colored ever so slightly and she nodded. "Is that all?"

"Yes, for now."

Irene was very glad that she had hired Flora as a replacement for her last assistant. Noel had been a horrible gossip, more inclined to unprofessionalism than Irene had been able to tolerate, even if there was something strangely familiar about her. She had fired the woman after only two weeks. Flora had been with her for years now, and Irene hoped never to lose her. She would be very hard to replace.

"Oh, could you call Harold from management and ask if we could move our meeting tomorrow up to three?"

"Of course, Ms. Winters." Flora walked back over to her desk to dial the number as Irene left for another lunch with Teresa.

That evening, she sat at her desk with Flora, looking over the statement they had written.

"Do you think it's concise?"

"Yes, Ms. Winters. It's to the point. No fluff."

"Should it have more fluff?" She read over it again, and would defer to Flora's opinion. The girl was more in tune with public opinion than Irene. "I don't want to seem too aloof."

"I think if we tried to add more fluff, it would seem disingenuous. When this all gets out, you'll be in the public eye. You'll want them to have a sense of who you are."

A smile tugged at Irene's mouth. "I'm not fluff?"

"No, Ms. Winters," Flora said, her own eyes crinkling in a smile. "But that's a good thing in my book. It's why I wanted to work for you."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. When I met you at my interview, I knew that you were the best, and I wanted to work with the best. Whenever this gets out, people will see that, too."

Irene looked at her assistant carefully, and realized that this was her closest relationship besides Teresa. She did not know whether that was pathetic or not, but she thought she could do worse than Flora.

"I do appreciate that. I hope you're right."

"I'm always right, Ms. Winters," Flora said.

"You know, I can't argue with that." Irene stretched, preparing to go home. "Well, we'll keep this handy and hope that we won't have to use it for a while."

"I'll be prepared."

"I know. Thank you, Flora. It would seem I work with the best, as well."

This earned her a blush from her assistant who thanked her before they both headed out.

As she and Teresa started to really fall into a rhythm, and the unsettling closeness Irene had felt from the beginning only grew. Irene was always reserved in her relationships, sometimes to the point where her previous partners claimed she was cold and frigid. She always feared losing control, awakening, and now she worried that her heart was telling her to go all in with Teresa. Irene had never, not in her entire life, felt so strongly about another person, and she did not know why. She did not know why her dreams about Teresa were so vivid, so real, so strange. She did not know why she felt like there was a piece of the puzzle missing, but she did know that she had to make things with Teresa work.

Like this was a second chance, their last chance.

"I told my parents about you," Teresa said over dinner the following week, startling Irene who nearly choked on her tea.

"You did?" She waited with apprehension for Teresa to elaborate.

"Yes." Teresa sighed heavily "They were pretty angry for a bit. There was a lot of yelling and crying on my mom's part. My father kept saying that he didn't understand. Hadn't I been married? It was a long conversation. We hung up on less than great terms"

"I'm sorry." Irene did not know what else to say.

Teresa shook her head lightly. "Don't apologize, Irene," she said gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides," She leaned back in her chair and smiled, "it turned out well."

"It did?"

"Yes. My mother called me later that night and said 'Teresa.'" She put on a slow drawl, exaggerating the southern accent. "'I don't rightly understand, and I'm not sure I ever will, but I know my daughter, and if you say you're happy, then I know you must be telling the truth, and I only want you to be happy.'"

Irene felt her heart squeeze, and she was not sure if she would be able to contain her emotions for a moment. "You're happy with me?"

"You couldn't tell?" Teresa's eyes were soft and kind.

"I had hoped so, but..." Irene looked down at her plate, suddenly feeling very exposed in the restaurant. "It's just that we haven't been together all that long." That plus the lingering feeling that one of them had done something in the past to jeopardize this. But she couldn't tell Teresa that. Couldn't tell anyone. When she put it into words, she sounded delusional.

Teresa looked carefully to her right, back out into the rest of the restaurant before reaching across the table to take Irene's hand in her own. "I can honestly say that this is the happiest I've been in a very, very long time." She let their hands break apart as the waitress brought the check.

"Anyway," Teresa continued as they left, "my mom called me a few more times to ask about you and about, you know, the whole dating women thing. I told her that I was dating one woman, thank you very much, not all of them. She was like 'oh, child, you know what I mean.'" Teresa placed a hand gently, possessively on the small of Irene's back as she steered her to the car. "'Now, darlin', just tell me about this girl. Is she respectable? Does she go to church?'"

"Church?" Irene raised a brow as she dipped into the passenger side of the car.

Teresa grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah. She's a good old Southern girl." Teresa hopped in next to her, turning the key and putting the car into gear. "Her life revolves around football and Jesus. In that order. Go Longhorns." She held up her hand, pinky and index fingers extended with the others curled over her palm in a gesture that Irene had only associated with rock music before. Must have been some football thing.

"Well, what did you tell her?"

"That churches aren't exactly welcoming to gay people." Teresa looked behind them before pulling out into the street. "She said that was okay as long as you knew Jesus loves you." She let out a low chuckle. "I swear, sometimes that woman is so out of touch with reality."

"She sounds sweet," Irene said diplomatically, feeling like her own reality was starting to shift.

"She has good intentions," Teresa said. "She doesn't really understand, but she's trying. You already have an invitation to Christmas, by the way. Clare spends Thanksgiving with her father's family, but she's all ours for Christmas, and my mom goes all out." Irene was too stunned to speak, but Teresa barely noticed. "She wants to meet you. She says that I've never talked about any of my boyfriends the way I talk about you." She glanced back at the other woman. "Irene? Are you okay?"

"No one's ever invited me home to meet their parents before."

"You don't have to come if it will make you feel uncomfortable," Teresa assured her. "I can tell her you want to spend it with your own family."

"No, I want to go," she said hurriedly. Her relationship with her family was distant, and she had not mentioned them much to Teresa. "I want to meet your parents, but...what if they don't like me?"

"They can just deal with it," Teresa answered firmly. "But my mom's too much of a Southern lady to be mean to you to your face, so don't worry about that."

"I suppose I'll have to meet Clare some time before that," Irene said cautiously.

"I suppose so." Teresa glanced quickly at her, not taking her eyes off the road for very long. "I want her to become more used to the idea of all this before you meet her, though."

"Of course. I wasn't trying to push the matter." Even though she absolutely did want to push the matter. She hoped that as soon as she met Clare, she would stop feeling so viscerally jealous.

"I know. I'm just glad that you want to meet her," Teresa admitted. "It's hard to find someone who can accept that I have a child from a previous relationship and that I'm still friends with her father."

"Have you told Chris about us yet?"

Chris was Clare's father. He was a photographer for National Geographic and could spend months overseas. When he was stateside, he tried to stay very involved in Clare's life. From what Irene could tell, he tried to be a good father, even if he was not around as much as she needed.

"Not yet. I haven't been able to think up the right words. It's hard to tell your ex that you're interested in chicks now. I just don't want him to think that he turned me gay or anything. I've always been attracted to women as well as men."

"Doesn't he know that?" Irene asked quietly.

"No." Teresa smiled wryly. "I suppose that would have been a pretty good indication that our marriage was doomed to fail. If I didn't want to tell him something like that, then it's not surprising that our relationship was...unhealthy."

Teresa always tried to steer the conversation away from her former marriage. Irene knew that he had been the one to file for divorce but that they had both agreed that it was the right decision. Beyond that, Teresa kept quiet, and Irene did not want to push. She couldn't judge. She hadn't told Teresa much about her own failed relationships. The past didn't seem important. Not this past, at least...

"Just out of curiosity." Irene tried to sound casual, but Teresa's eyes narrowed. "How many women have you been with?"

Teresa pursed her lips in thought. "Five."

"Oh." Irene felt odd as she realized that Teresa had been with more women than she had. The jealousy that was usually reserved for Clare welled inside her. She wanted to know who they were. Hunt them down, make sure they knew not to cross Quicksword-

"Irene?"

She rubbed her temple, knocking away the strange thoughts. At work, she was always cold, calm, and collected. The Ice Queen. She never gave anything away, and her poker face was legendary. But when it came to Teresa, she lost all of that.

"That's more than I expected," she said softly. That Teresa would risk this with anyone else, risk elimination…

Irene wondered if she needed to schedule another appointment with her psychiatrist. The intrusive thoughts were getting worse.

Teresa frowned, confused. "Is that a problem?" Her brows knitted together. "I didn't think you would care. You've been with other women, too."

Irene looked down at her lap, trying to swallow the unexpected anger. "I've been with a few, yes. But work gets in the way."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Teresa was looking at her strangely. "Why are you apologizing for that?"

"You've been with more people than I have."

"So? That doesn't matter. Those were all flings, anyway. Yours were committed relationships, right?" Teresa asked.

"Well, I was committed, at least," Irene muttered. Teresa, for the first time since Irene had met her, was at a loss for words. She took Irene's hand in hers and held it tight.

That night, when Teresa kissed her goodnight, it was slow and soft, but there was something else underneath. An intense desire that Irene could feel resonating through her entire body. Teresa pulled them into the shadows next to Irene's building, her arms wrapped tight around Irene. They continued like that for quite some time before Irene gently pushed Teresa back, finally regaining some control.

"I think it's time to call it a night," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I had a wonderful evening, Teresa. Thank you."

Teresa leaned in to give her nose one last small kiss. "Clare's going over to a friend's house Wednesday. I know this awesome Greek place I want to take you to."

"Are you going to let me pay this time?"

"Absolutely not." Teresa walked her to the door, gave her another sound kiss and marched back to the car she insisted on driving.

When Irene was back inside her kitchen, she stared at the phone for a few minutes before making a decision. She dialed a number she seldom used.

"Hello?" The voice that answered was female.

"Elda? It's Irene."

"Oh, hey!" her brother's wife exclaimed. "How are you? Is everything all right?"

It was a legitimate question. Irene never called unless it was a holiday, someone's birthday, or someone was in trouble.

"Everything's fine. I'm doing really well, thank you." She shrugged off her jacket and took off her shoes. "Is Paul home?" She glanced at the clock, hoping it wasn't too late in the evening.

"Yeah, he's in the study. Let me go get him."

Irene waited patiently while Elda retrieved her brother.

"Ren?" He was the only one who called her that. "What's going on? Has Dad finally kicked it?"

If Irene's relationship with her father was cold, her brother's relationship with him was nonexistent. Paul had basically been cut from her father's will after he married Elda, a girl from a poor, working class family. Not fitting for the heir to the Winters fortune. Now, Irene stood to inherit it all, while her brother had been forced to make his own way in the world.

"Sadly, no," Irene joked. "He just texted me a few days ago to see if you were still alive."

"So glad he still cares," Paul drawled. "Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I wanted you to know that I've met someone."

"That's great Ren! It's been too long since you had someone. Is it anyone I know?"

"Kind of," Irene said. "And you're probably not going to believe me, but I promise I'm not lying."

"Of course not. So, who is it?"

"Teresa Blackwell."

"The actress?"

"The very one."

"Damn, Ren." Paul whistled low. "She's hot. And famous...and I thought she was married or something."

"She used to be, but she's not anymore." Irene stifled a yawn. She had been up very early that morning to finish some paperwork. "I met her at the Gala for the foundation." She paused, frowning. "I don't recall seeing you there, Paul." He usually tried to make it since it was in honor of their mother.

"Elda wasn't feeling well," he explained. "The doctor doesn't want her to put too much of a strain on herself, you know. I texted you." Elda was a little old for a first time mother, and both she and Paul were worried about the baby.

"Oh." She hadn't seen his text. She had been too busy being overwhelmed by Teresa. "I was a bit distracted that day. Is Elda feeling better? She's due soon, right?"

"She's feeling fine now. She's got another five weeks."

"You're going to name the kid after me, right?" she teased.

Paul laughed heartily. "Of course. But you're changing the subject. Tell me more about this Teresa. I want to know who's awesome enough to make my sister call me when it's not even my birthday."

She spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with her brother, telling him all about Teresa, impressing on him the importance of not letting anyone know. It was the longest conversation they had had in quite some time. Irene always wondered why that was. She supposed they were just both so busy with their work that they forgot how long it had been since they had last talked. She made a promise to herself that she would make more of an effort to keep connected with her brother.

Her dreams that night featured the blond girl again, the one with fire in her heart. The girl's name was just out of reach, but Irene knew she was important. She would change everything.