I am sorry this chapter took so long. I have not had much motivation, so chapters will probably be slow to come for a while. Thank you, as usual, to my beta, shelter.

Irene woke well before their designated meeting time. Her mind was too full of possibilities and lingering anger at her father. With the time she had, she started searching online for Isley White to see what she could find. To her frustration, she could not find any pictures of him, but he seemed to be well known. His collection was said to be one of the best in the country, the envy of many.

She was still scrolling through her searches when Teresa knocked on the door.

"Good morning," Irene said. "Are you ready?"

"Well, I don't know if I'm ready to go face a Creature of the Abyss, but I am dressed."

"There are no unsolved disappearances in the area," Irene said. "I did check. So, we should probably be safe."

With a snort, Teresa shook her head. "He might not be looking to eat our guts, but I doubt we'll be safe."

"I need to find out what he knows."

"I know. I just...What will we do if he remembers?"

"Have an honest conversation, hopefully."

"You're awfully optimistic about this." Teresa tossed her hair, sliding on her sunglasses. "Well, let's get going."

They stopped long enough to eat breakfast, before heading out. It had snowed overnight, and Teresa had to drive slowly over the slick roads as they wound their way outside of town.

"You're sure we should do this?" Teresa asked again.

"Are you frightened?"

"Of an Abyssal One? No, of course not. Why would I ever be afraid of that?" Teresa rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on. You hid your power from me, but I felt it, Teresa. When you fought Priscilla, I couldn't believe it. Your yoki aura was overwhelming." If Irene had known, if only she had known, then she would have refused to go after Teresa with anything less than the full might of the 47, probably not even then. "The part of you that manifested through Clare to ultimately defeat Priscilla did so with terrifying ease. That's what Clare said."

"She also said it wasn't actually me," Teresa reminded her. "It was my residual essence paired with her love and her memories, or whatever. That's what made it so powerful. Since I don't have any of those memories, I am inclined to agree it was not really me."

"Clare believed you still would have been able to defeat Priscilla, just with much more difficulty. So Isley of the North should not frighten you."

"Irene, we don't know what he's like here. We don't have our full abilities, but what if he does? I'm not…" She blew out a sigh through her nose. "I'm vulnerable here."

Irene turned to watch her carefully. "It's not a good feeling, is it?"

"No, it's not. And the worst part is for years I was blissfully unaware of just how vulnerable. Then my memories came back, and I felt so damn weak. Ironic since I'm still stronger than any human I've encountered."

"Logically, if our abilities are diminished, then his should be, too."

"And if not?"

"Then we'll call the police."

Teresa stared at her then burst into laughter. "Okay, sure. We'll call the police on an Awakened Being."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No, I can't say I do. It's just funny to put our two worlds together like that. Like, can you imagine?" She lowered her voice in a parody of a police officer. "'Sorry sir, you'll have to come with us. Please put away your literal knife hands so we can put you in the squad car.'"

Irene pressed a hand against her lips to stifle her chuckle, which Teresa took as encouragement.

"'Ma'am,'" she continued. "'I know this is your awakened form, but we still have to take you in for public indecency. Yes, I understand they do not sell clothes in size 15X. Ma'am, please do not eat the officers.'"

Irene's snort earned a bigger grin from Teresa.

"'Dispatch, Rigardo is on a rampage. Can someone please send some catnip and a ball of string? Yes, the giant one in the back room.'"

"Stop," Irene finally said, unable to contain her laughter any longer. "You're so ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you love me." Teresa's grin faded as she realized what she had said. "I mean..."

"I do," Irene said, also growing serious. "I do love you, Teresa."

"Even after everything?"

"Yes. Even after everything." She tilted her head to look at Teresa. It was not the new, exciting passion she'd felt before her memories returned. It was the old, settled sort of love that came from a lifetime of familiarity. "We're different here, but still the same at our cores. I loved you before, and I love you now." She gestured at the road before them. "And if we get eaten by an Awakened Being, then at least I was able to say that."

"I love you very much, Irene. I will do better this time."

Irene just nodded. "And I promise I won't try to kill you this time."

"As if you could."

"You know, we should spar when we get a chance. See what our strength is." Before, she had given up her life as a warrior, sacrificed her arm to Clare with no intention of ever picking up her sword again. Now, though, she felt a drive inside her to find out what they could do.

"Do you just have some claymores lying around?"

"I can buy some."

"And if I accidentally cut off your arm? You can't just reattach it here. I mean, the doctors can," Teresa amended after some thought. "But it wouldn't work as well."

Irene rolled her left shoulder, frowning. "I'll buy practice swords. And protective gear. And I don't believe you could ever accidentally cut me anywhere. You're too good for that."

"If you really want to do this, then I'll agree. But just know, I think it's a bad idea."

"It's just for my own knowledge," Irene insisted. "I don't actually plan on fighting anyone."

Teresa did not look convinced, but she was soon distracted by the mansion looming on the hill top before them.

"Damn, how much money does he have?"

"As much as you or me," Irene said, leaning forward to see better. "I don't see a security system. No fence, no gate. No guards."

"I don't like it." Teresa leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

"I don't either, but we came all this way. I'm not going back empty handed."

"Jesus, okay." Teresa turned the car up the long, winding drive, cursing every time the tires slipped on the fresh snow.

There was a large circle drive in front of the house, with a frozen fountain at the center. The figure in the middle of the fountain was a centaur, and Irene pursed her lips.

"That's not promising."

"We can still turn around," Teresa said hopefully.

As Irene contemplated this, the door to the mansion opened, and an old man walked out onto the porch. He waved at them, and Irene pushed open her door, standing behind it as some sort of shield.

"Hello," the man called. "I don't usually take visitors, but you two...well, I do think we have much to discuss."

"My mom is going to kill me if I get eaten," Teresa muttered as she got out of the car.

Glancing at each other, she and Irene cautiously approached the man. At this distance, Irene could see he was probably in his eighties or even nineties, bent over with age and leaning heavily on a cane. It was impossible to tell how tall he would have been in his prime.

"Come closer, please. I don't think I know either of you, but my eyesight isn't what it used to be."

When they were at the steps of the porch, the man smiled and nodded. "As I thought. You are both strangers to me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name here is Isley White, but you may know me better as the White Silver King."

Irene took a step back, her body instinctively turning in a defensive position. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Teresa's hand clench, as if looking for a sword to grasp.

"Oh, no need for that," Isley said pleasantly. "I assure you, you are in no danger here. I haven't fed on humans or Claymores in this world. I have no appetite for it anymore."

"You knew we were warriors," Irene said, keeping her stance. "How?"

"I felt you. Don't worry, you'll learn. Please, do come inside out of the cold. I'll put on some tea." He beckoned to them.

"Well?" Teresa asked Irene softly.

"We go inside and keep our fingers crossed." Irene gathered her courage and started up the steps after Isley, taking in the opulence of the large columns, the railing, the gargoyles on the roof. "Your home is beautiful," she said cautiously as Isley took them into a large sitting room.

"Thank you. I've spent my life cultivating this place." He turned to speak to a maid who appeared. "Please fetch some tea for my guests, my dear."

"Of course, Mr. White." She gave him a curtsey and left.

"Please, have a seat," Isley said, gingerly lowering himself in a chair. They followed, though Irene was still on edge. "Now, tell me, how long have you remembered your past lives?"

"Oh, um...about five years," Teresa said, frowning.

"Three weeks, give or take." Had it really been so little time? It felt like an eternity.

Isley raised his brows. "Only three weeks? Did you have any inclination before that? Hallucinations? Dreams?"

Irene nodded. "Yes. Both. Since I was a teenager. I was prescribed medication to suppress them."

"When I was young, the treatment was a permanent stay at an asylum. You're lucky to have been born in this time."

"You seem to have done well for yourself," Teresa said.

"Family money. One of the reasons I was able to stay out of an asylum long enough to figure out what I was."

"An Awakened Being."

"Not anymore," he said, face closing off. "When we came here, things were different. I did not crave human flesh anymore, and I have lived with my shame. I cannot change what I was or what I did. In this world, I can only move forward." He gave them a tight smile. "I assume you are here because you saw the paintings."

"Yes," Irene said slowly. She kept expecting an attack at any moment, and she felt exposed without her sword. "I found pictures of Luciela of the South and Wild Horse Octavia in a gallery. We're trying to track down the artist to learn more. But perhaps you can answer some questions for us."

"I will answer what I can. But first, I would ask to know more about you. When were you warriors? What were your ranks? Did you have titles?"

"I'm Teresa. Teresa of the Faint Smile. I was ranked Number One, like you. I gained that position a few years after Luciela awakened."

"Ah, Teresa." He studied her for a moment. "You must not have Awakened. I would have known."

"No. I was killed by another warrior after deserting." She lifted her chin. "Actually, I was killed by Priscilla. I believe you knew her after she awakened."

"Ah yes, I see now. When I knew Priscilla, she did not remember her life as a Claymore. I did not know how she came to be." He turned his eyes to Irene. "And you. I assume you were a high rank, as well?"

"I was called Quicksword Irene. I was Number Two at the same time Teresa was Number One."

"Yes, I felt the power on you two. Even in this world, we radiate energy, and can access it to an extent, if you know how."

"But not awaken?" Teresa leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and Irene had to take a moment to realize the absurdity of the situation. They were having tea with Isley of the North, the White Silver King. Just sitting in his mansion, calmly talking about their past lives.

"No, not that I have experienced." He took just a moment too long to answer, and Irene felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "It's as though our powers are a part of us now instead of an invader trying to wrest control. We live longer than humans, but we do still age." He held out his arms. "As you can see."

"Do you know how many of us there are?" Irene asked, shrugging off her unease. He was an old man, nothing more. Not a threat.

"No. I have not sought out any of our kind. I only know of the ones who find me. Not everyone wants to remember. Some spend their lives here blissfully ignorant of our pasts."

Teresa perked up, and Irene knew she was thinking of Clare. "So it's not inevitable that someone will regain their memories?"

"No. I don't think so, though I don't know why some do and some don't." He took a sip of his tea, looking very much like someone's grandfather. "I will be frank with you. I don't have the answers you're likely seeking. I do not like to dwell on that life, for obvious reasons. I was given a second chance, and I embraced it. But I do know who can help you."

They looked at each other. "And who would that be?" Irene asked.

"Her name is Rafaela. She was-"

"Luciela's sister," Irene said. "The one who was supposed to hold her soul-link."

"Ah, you're well informed."

"Well, she had been sent to kill me." Even if it had been a half hearted attempt, even if Irene was certain Rafaela had purposefully spared her. Clare had informed her of the rest much later.

"I've lost track of her over the years," Isley continued. "But the paintings are hers. I believe she's been in the world the longest. She is very old, but she was alive the last time I checked. I have a few more of her paintings, if you would like to see. And something else I believe might interest you." He tried to stand, rocking in his chair first to get leverage. Irene got up and offered her arm. "Oh, thank you, dear. I must say, aging is not all it's cracked up to be. Though it is better than the alternative."

Irene helped him stand and kept a hold on his arm as he led them into the hall, where paintings lined the walls. Teresa's eyes widened as she followed them.

"Wow, this is some collection."

"The art in this world is just so beautiful," Isley said. "The things people can create when they don't live in fear of youma attacks." He took them to the end of the hall where there were several more portraits of warriors. "Europa, Agatha, Chronos, Lars." He named them each.

"They all awakened in the other world," Teresa said.

"Yes, and none of them remember. That seems to be Rafaela's subject of choice. But, come. There is something more important."

He opened the door door at the end of the hall, and Irene gasped.

Hanging from the walls were dozens and dozens of claymores, each with a unique emblem.

"Are these…"

"Yes. They're ours. Or, some of ours. I've collected every one I've come across."

"May I?" Irene asked.

"Of course. If yours are here, please take them."

"Where did you find them?" Irene looked over the one closest to her. She did not recognize the emblem. "Why are they here?"

"It seems they came with us. It's nothing I can explain. But they have been found all over the world, and I did not want humans to have them. Please, take them."

"I don't know if we should," Teresa said, looking at the swords apprehensively. "I'm done with that life."

"Oh, but I do think you should reconsider."

Something in Isley's voice made Irene turn to look at him. His body was trembling, his back starting to curve unnaturally, and that long forgotten sensation spread through her gut. The sensation, the ability that made warriors so uniquely able to hunt youma.

"Isley?"

"I was not completely honest with you earlier. I'm sorry." His voice had lowered, turning gravely.

"What do you mean?" But Irene already knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Awakening is not entirely impossible here," he said, head bent forward. "Though it must be purposeful. I was foolish enough to make the same mistake twice. Again, I thought I could control it."

"Irene," Teresa said in warning, already backing away, her arm outstretched to try and shield Irene.

"I've looked for someone for a while now who would do this for me. No one wants to kill an old man. No one else would have been strong enough, anyway. Except Priscilla. But she had other plans. She doesn't know you remember. She wanted me to be around for you to find. She's been waiting for you, Teresa. She has...unfinished...business."

Irene back peddled, trying to get away from him as his body morphed and grew. His awakened form was not as large as in the old world, but it still filled the room.

"I'll hold back as much as I can," Isley said. "What I said was true. I have not consumed human flesh in this world. The urge did not come until Priscilla showed me how to awaken. But now, I am so hungry. I can no longer suppress it. I need you to stop it. It will be easier for you to kill me if I look like this instead of an old man. Please. A final favor. End me."

There was no time to think, no time to worry about whether or not she could or should do this. Irene grabbed the nearest claymore to her and hefted it in front of her. It was heavier than she remembered, and her muscles didn't know how to yield it with such precision anymore.

"I told you this was a bad idea!" Teresa called to her, her own hands already clasped around the hilt of a sword.

"Please hurry," Isley said. "I can only contain my humanity for so long." He bowed his head, giving them a good shot at his neck. "If you miss, I will not be able to stop myself from fighting you."

The sword was clumsy in her hands, much heavier and unwieldy than the fencing foils she'd commanded in school, and Irene wished she had worn better shoes. Her boots were made to be stylish, not practical. They certainly were not made for a sword fight.

"This is such bullshit," Teresa said as she looked at her sword. They both seemed hesitant to actually follow through. There were so many more consequences here, lives that could be ruined. This was a police investigation waiting to happen.

"Your window is closing." Isley's arm was starting to morph into a sword, a mirror of the joke Teresa had made earlier that day. "I'm losing control."

With a growl, Teresa rushed Isley, but her swing was blocked by his arm.

"Ah, you're very slow. I expected more of a Number One."

"Irene, I'm going to need your help," Teresa said, pulling back her arm to swing again.

Though it had been years and years, even in the old world, since they had fought together, Irene's body responded. She lept, meaning to arc over Isley to bring her sword down on his neck, but her more human body could not give her the height.

With a pained grunt, she slammed into his side, stumbling in her heeled shoes as she landed. He turned to slash at her, but she ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding cutting herself on her sword. Her body felt like it was moving through molasses. She could remember how devastatingly fast she used to be, but her new body could only move at a fraction of the speed.

Teresa had kicked off her heels and was now fighting barefoot, so small next to Isley. In the old world, size had not mattered. Priscilla had been the most powerful awakened being, though her awakened form was relatively small compared to the Abyssal Ones. Teresa had killed awakened beings much larger than herself without breaking a sweat. Irene had done the same.

But now, her human instincts told her that Isley was too large, too powerful, for her to hope to defeat. The fear that had been born the day Priscilla took her arm threatened to overwhelm her as she recovered her footing and launched an attack at Isley's flank, causing him to turn and expose his front. Teresa managed to cut deep into his right arm.

To Irene's dismay, the arm started to heal. Perhaps not as quickly as in the old world, but fast enough that she feared they were in real trouble.

"It must be a beheading," Isley said even as he swung his uninjured arm at Teresa, knocking her to the side. She grunted as her shoulder hit the ground, and Irene took the opportunity to cut into Isley's side, giving Teresa time to recover.

The Abyssal One kicked out, his hoof catching Irene in her stomach, knocking the breath out of her. His attention was on her long enough for Teresa to finally land a blow to his neck.

Isley's head rolled towards Irene, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She had seen worse, so much worse, as a warrior, but her new body was not as equipped to cope with the horrors of battle.

"Thank you," Isley said, eyes closing with a smile.

Teresa drove her sword through his head, through his brain, breathing hard as she looked down at his corpse.

"What the actual fuck is going on?"

"We can still awaken," Irene said, pushing herself up. The damage done by Isley's hoof was already starting to heal, though she knew she would be sore in the morning. She looked around the room at all the swords, all the blood, purple and stinking. She wiped a hand across her face, realizing too late that she was smearing blood across her cheek. "Oh my God, we killed him."

"Yeah, what other choice did we have?"

"Teresa, this isn't just some random youma! We weren't given a job to do. This is a wealthy art collector! People will miss him." She looked around the room, frantic. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't fucking know, Irene! I didn't think farther than not getting stabbed!" Teresa brandished the sword, and Irene did not recognize the symbol on it. "Jesus, he was holding back and he was like a thousand years old, and I was still too slow! You said I didn't have anything to worry about!"

"I didn't think he would actually have his power! Not like this!" She dropped the sword, running a hand through her hair, leaving blood there, as well. "Shit, shit shit shit. People know we were here. I need to call my lawyer, or the police or something."

"The police? And tell them what? That we're reincarnated warriors from another world and we had to kill him because he was a monster? That will go over well! I guess we can try to set up an insanity plea!"

"I don't know what else you want us to do!" Irene gestured to the body. "Look at him! Look at the blood, Teresa!"

"I fucking see it. And I can smell it, too."

"We can say that we came to see him and found him like this, or-or that he attacked us and we had no choice to defend ourselves. And then we play dumb."

"And how do we explain knowing what to do with a sword?"

"I was an excellent fencer in school, and I'm sure you've learned some sword play for a role, right? Right?" Her mind was working in overdrive, and her heart slammed against her ribs. So hard, she was sure it would break.

"Oh my God." The voice at the door jerked Irene's attention. The maid from earlier stood in the entrance, her hands over her mouth.

"Oh, fuck," Teresa muttered behind her, and the maid's eyes widened.

"You've killed him," the maid said, her voice high and thin, and Irene started to approach her, hands raised peacefully.

"It's not what it looks like," she started, then cursed herself. Of course it was what it looked like. "He...he wasn't himself. He attacked us. We had no choice."

"He said this might happen, but I never thought…"

Irene's brows snapped together. "He said this could happen?"

The maid was shaking as she surveyed the room, the blood, the corpse, and Irene feared she would bolt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Teresa lift her sword again. Irene shot her a glare, shaking her head.

"He said...he said he was different, but I didn't understand." The maid was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Irene gently grabbed her hands.

"I know this is...a lot." Which was a gross understatement. The adrenaline was still pumping through her. "We just had questions for him. We didn't mean for this to happen." How could they have known?

"You need to leave," the maid said, wrenching her hands from Irene's grasp.

"Please, let us explain."

"You can't be here. You have to go."

"Look, we just need to-"

"I must call Mr. White's lawyer. The estate must be settled." The maid shook her head. "This...this will need to be cleaned up. You can't be here when the lawyer gets here. It complicates things."

"Are you going to call the police?" Teresa asked.

"They wouldn't understand," the maid said, though Irene knew she did not understand, either. "This was a private matter. It will be handled."

"Then we should go," Irene said. "Isley wanted us to take our swords."

The maid nodded, and Irene cautiously approached the closest wall of claymores, glancing over the emblems. She saw Rosemary's, Hysteria's, Noel's, Sophia's, many she did not recognize. She had to go halfway around the room before she saw hers. Right below it sat Teresa's, as well.

"Oh." The moment her hand closed over the hilt, it felt right, sitting better in her grasp than the one she had used against Isley, though she knew there was no physical difference between the two.

Teresa reached around her to take her own sword. "Well...I guess we should take these."

"If Priscilla is out there, waiting for you…" Irene swallowed, unsure what they could do. "If she's awakened, then she might be preying on innocent people."

"I don't know. She's an actress. People follow her."

"So?"

"So, wouldn't someone have noticed if she was eating people? I've met her before. She seems...sweet."

"Isley said she was the one who showed him how to awaken." Irene glanced at his body. "Which means, she's no longer Priscilla. She's a monster, and she needs to be...taken care of."

"By us?"

"Who else?"

"If you didn't notice, Irene, neither of us are what we used to be. The only reason we didn't die just now is because Isley didn't want us to." She lifted her sword. "This is heavy. My swings were slow and clumsy, and you couldn't even jump over him. How are we supposed to kill Priscilla, who probably is vastly more powerful than him?"

"He said we could access our powers. We just have to learn how."

"No." Teresa frowned intently at her sword. "No, I don't want to."

"Teresa-"

"No! No, I have a life here. A good life." She looked up at Irene, features twisted in pain, tossing the sword to the ground. "I have a family, a career, you. I finally have you, Irene. And I don't have to worry about being executed if anyone finds out! I don't have to hide you, or worry that I'm going to receive your black card, or that you'll be killed on an assignment! I get to live and love and grow old and raise Clare. I have everything I ever wanted. I am not going to throw that away."

"We have a responsibility, Teresa."

"No, we don't! Last time, we didn't have a choice. Here, I make my own decisions. I have a choice! I have to have a choice!" Her voice cracked, body trembling. "If I don't have a choice, then what's the point?"

Irene didn't know what to say. She carefully put down her sword and stepped over to Teresa.

"Hey, okay. Okay." She pulled Teresa into a strong embrace. "You have a choice."

"I don't want to fight," Teresa said, her face pressed into Irene's hair. "I don't want to be a warrior again."

Irene just held her, unused to the position in either life. Teresa rarely needed or accepted comfort, and Irene had never seen her like this. The Teresa she knew and remembered was always up for a fight, always ready to take on the biggest challenge, always so infuriatingly cocky. But this Teresa, the Teresa with black hair and kind eyes, was no longer a warrior.

"Miss," the maid said from the door. "Please, you must go."

Irene released Teresa and bent down to pick up both their swords. "I...Is there anything we can do?" It was ridiculous to ask, she knew, but what else was there to do?

"No. It's best if you go now." She seemed to have gathered herself, and she handed Irene a folded piece of paper. "The information on Miss Rafaela. Mr. Isley asked that you have it."

"Thank you," Irene said, putting the paper in her pocket. She glanced at Teresa who still looked shell-shocked. "Teresa, we need to go."

"Leave the swords."

"I can't. We don't have to use them, but I can't leave them here."

Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, then brushed past Irene to head back into the hallway. "Fine. Just don't expect me to carry mine."

Sighing, Irene held both swords awkwardly in her hands, following Teresa. She felt the urge to stay, to figure out what to do about the body, but Teresa was already trudging through the halls and out the front door. She practically threw herself into the car while Irene struggled to arrange the swords.

"It's not coming home with me," Teresa said as Irene buckled up.

"Okay. I'll find a place for it." Her family had property outside the city that no one used.

"I'm not going to go galavanting after Priscilla and leave Clare at home."

"I understand."

Teresa gripped the steering wheel, headed for the interstate. "But you want to."

"Do I want to confront Priscilla, the strongest creature I ever encountered, the creature who maimed and almost killed me? Of course not. I told you, I never escaped the terror I felt that day. I still dream about it." Irene had to suppress a shudder.

"But?"

"But, the fact remains, if she's out there hurting people, we're the only ones who know. And you're right, this isn't something we can tell the police."

"Irene, please." Teresa's voice was desperate.

"You don't have to come. But it was my fault she awakened in the old world. I should be the one to...to put her to rest." If it could not be Clare, then it should be Irene. It was her responsibility, one she had run from before. But now, she had to be brave.

"Are you insane? You have never been one to overestimate your abilities. You know you're not a match for her. I may not have seen her awaken, but I felt her power before."

"You know, I said something similar to Clare in the other world. But that did not stop her. Of course, I don't have your power inside me. Nor her fire. Still, I think I should see this through." She felt the same certainty as when she had decided to cut off her single remaining arm for Clare a lifetime ago.

"Dammit, Irene, don't be so stupid!"

"Are you afraid?"

"Of course I'm afraid!" Teresa slammed her hand on the wheel. "When I picked up that sword, it felt so wrong, and for the very first time, I was afraid I wasn't going to win. He wasn't even trying, and I could barely land a blow on him. I can't face Priscilla, Irene. And neither can you."

"You can do what you think is best," Irene said cautiously. "But I am going to find Rafaela, and I am going to figure out how to access my power. Isley said it was possible. And I will train until my sword is no longer heavy. And I will confront Priscilla. Because when I picked up my sword, the one with my emblem, it felt so very right."

"Then you're going to die."

"Maybe. But I've already gotten five chances at life, by my count. I should have died when my family was killed by Youma. I should have died when we fought Hysteria. I should have died when Priscilla awakened. And I should have died when Rafaela found me. Now I'm here, on my fifth life. I'm starting to think that survival is my special technique rather than the Quicksword."

"Don't you dare joke about this."

"I'm not joking, Teresa. I know this is dangerous and that my chances are next to zero."

"Then why are you insisting on trying?"

"Because I failed her before, as a Captain, as a leader. I failed you, and Noel, and Sophia. I failed my duty, but that doesn't have to be my story here."

Teresa cursed under her breath, glaring at the road ahead of them. "This is ridiculous, Irene."

"I know. I wish I could explain it better."

"Please don't do this to me." Teresa's voice was small, pleading.

"I'm sorry. I am. I don't want to leave you or Clare. But I can't just ignore this."

"Why confront her? We don't even know anything for certain. Can't you just...investigate? You're supposed to be the rational one. Not the one who rushes headlong into danger without a plan."

"I have a plan, Teresa. I will find Rafaela, and see what she knows. I'm going to train until I am strong. I'm not going to hop on a plane to L.A tomorrow and seek out Priscilla. I'm not being rash."

"No, just stupid."

"Teresa, please."

"No, I'm allowed to be upset by this! I just don't understand why you're still blaming yourself for all of this!"

"Because she was a child, and I was supposed to protect her! I was supposed to see the instability and keep her from going too far. But I was distracted. I was distracted by her power, and I was distracted by you. Now, it's ruined her life in two worlds, and the lives of countless others. I was a coward before, but I will not be one again."

"Wanting to survive is not cowardice."

"No, but letting others die when I could perhaps prevent it is."

Teresa pressed her lips into a thin line, and focused on the road. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Fine." Irene crossed her arms and leaned her head back against the headrest.

The drive back to the city was long and silent, and Irene went home to an empty bed.

That night, she dreamed of Priscilla, of the girl she had been, of the childhood she had been robbed of. And Irene could only hope she was not making a fatal mistake.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!