It was getting late. Freya felt the sense of foreboding looming above her head as she and her mother did the last few dishes in the sink. "You two should probably get going," Joanna said, wiping her hands on a clean dishtowel. The younger Beauchamp daughter lifted her chin toward her mother. Joanna motioned toward the doorway that showed Killian sitting in the living room. "I'm sure the two of you could use some alone time."

"Are you sure? I mean, this place gets awfully quiet when no one's home—" The words were rushing from between her lips. "If you wanted me to stay longer, I totally can. I mean, Killian would understand. After losing Dad, and Freddie and Wendy. He—"

Joanna placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Freya," She offered a sad smile. "I'll be okay." She opened her mouth to argue, but her mother cut her off. "Go. You've been waiting months to be with Killian. Don't let me get in the way of that."

Freya opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Her mother was right. She had been pining over Killian since the first day she'd met him. And now, now that they were finally able to be together, she was pushing it off. "God, he must think I'm horrible," she whispered, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Oh, I doubt that," Joanna said, brushing Freya's dark hair over her shoulder. "Go. Be with your soul mate." She offered her daughter a smile. Freya rested a hand on her mother's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"If you need anything, you'll call, right?" Her mother nodded in answer to her question. A smile flashed across her face. She hugged Joanna, then walked in Killian's direction. "Hey. Ready?" He looked up at her, a smile on his own face.

Killian stood from the couch, reaching out to take her hand. "Let's go home."

–

Freya had been unable to get Killian truly alone in the week since everything started happening. It felt like a sea of one thing after another, after another. The first was the call from Dash. After they left the prison, intentions of going home alone together in hand, Joanna called with the bad news about Wendy. Then the police showed up at the house about Freddie. One thing after another. As they parked outside of Killian's place, she glanced over at him, reaching for his hand.

He seemed quiet, distant. "Everything okay?" Freya prompted. He blinked a couple of times before turning to look at her.

Killian's dark eyes settled on Freya. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and offered a forced smile. "Of course." He brought her hand to his lips.

Of course everything was okay. She was just being overly sensitive. Killian had been great. He'd been by Freya's side nearly every moment of the last week. He was probably just tired. She gave a smile and the two of them set off from the car into the small house Killian had been living in with Eva. Much as she tried not to, she thought of the woman often. She wasn't bitter or angered by the woman. No, she felt an all-encroaching sadness for her. To have to be a sort of leech in order to continue life. Then again, eternal youth was a burden all its own.

"I'm going to take a hot bath," Freya remarked, eyeing Killian lasciviously. "Care to join me?"

A wide grin broke out across his face. Freya took that as his answer as they climbed from the car. Once inside, Killian made his way toward the bathroom and started running the hot water. Freya was on his heels, running her hands down his back and around to his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffened, but only for a brief moment. If her sense hadn't been running on high, she'd have probably missed it. His body went pliant as he turned, wrapping her in his arms. He leaned down, kissing her swiftly on the mouth, holding her against him for a long time.

When he pulled back, something akin to confusion flickered across his features. But then, he was Killian again, smiling down at her. "You go ahead, I'll get some wine," he remarked, pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

Since when did Killian care about wining and dining? It didn't seem like him, but Freya kept her opinions to herself as he left the bathroom, pulling the door closed as he did so. She undressed and slid down in the water, stifling a moan of pleasure as the hot water ran over her skin. Her entire body felt so tense' it was nice to let go for once.

Freya had rather hoped Killian would be quick. She'd been looking forward to losing herself in him, to forgetting her pain if only for a moment.

Thinking about her father, about Freddie, Wendy…it hurt. Something, that sixth sense, told her that she wasn't yet done losing people yet.

But as she soaked in the hot water, Freya knew that as long as she had Killian by her side, she would be okay.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She spent a few minutes listening for the sounds of him in the house, but only silence greeted her. When he said he was going to get some wine, did that mean he was literally going somewhere to get wine?

An hour passed. The water grew cold, as did Freya's expectations for the evening. If Killian was coming, he'd have been back by now. She climbed from the water, wrapping up in a towel. As she pushed open the door from the bathroom, she found him fast asleep. She frowned, partially because she felt guilty for being perturbed, and the other part because she knew how exhausted he was. He'd been waiting on her, her mother, hand and foot for a week. Maybe she was just being too hard on him. He deserved rest just as much as the rest.

So instead of getting upset or angry, Freya climbed into bed, and fell asleep herself, dreams of a reunited family once again calming her spirit.

–

She woke up to full darkness, with the exception of her cell phone ringing on the bathroom counter. Freya stumbled from the bed, grumbling beneath her breath. It was probably the bar. They'd already asked her when she was returning to work. She grabbed her phone, not looking at the ID. "Hello?"

"Freya—" It was Joanna. "—Freya, something's happened to Ingrid!"

That shook the sleep from her mind. "What?!" She exclaimed, walking back toward the bedroom. Killian stirred from his sleep, wiping at his eyes as he sat up looking at Freya. "Mom, take a deep breath." She could hear her mother's hysteria on the other end of the phone. It was rare that Joanna lost herself. Even in the face of the losses of the last week, none of them had caused her mother sheer panic. "What's happened?"

"She left a letter on my nightstand. Said that she was sorry, but she was leaving East End and she didn't know if she'd be back." Freya felt her blood run cold at her mother's words. No. No. Ingrid wouldn't bail on them in the middle of a crisis. That wasn't like her older sister at all. Her mother was right, something had to have happened to her. Ingrid was her sister, her best friend and confidant. She couldn't imagine her not being there. That's who Ingrid had been, through all of their lives. She was the loyal one, who stayed with Joanna, who kept the family tied together.

Something had happened. Something that either drove her to this decision, or the letter was a fake.

"I'll be right over."

Killian's hand rested on her elbow. She turned to him, fighting back the tears threatening at her eyes. She balled her hands into fists at her side. "What's going on Freya?"

"It's Ingrid," his eyes widened.

"What? Is she okay?" He was on his feet now. Freya didn't realize how much he cared.

"No," she shook her head, rushing around the room to find something to wear. "Mom found a letter, saying Ingrid was leaving and didn't know if she'd be back. Killian grabbed for his shoes. "You don't have to come. Get some sleep." He stopped, looking up at Freya with something that resembled worry in his eyes. "I'm just going to Mom's. Until we can sort this out." He frowned.

"I can't just stay here when something's going on with your si—family," Killian said, standing and putting his hands on her shoulders. "How about this? I'll go see Dash. Maybe she went to see him and told him something more." She eyed him curiously, but said nothing. "I'll drop you by your mom's." He offered a kind smile. "We'll figure this out. I won't let anything else happen to your family. You've been through so much already."

Freya was grateful for his enthusiasm and willingness to help, but she couldn't shake that feeling. Something was off with him. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a quick kiss. As he pulled back, the features of his face shifted, his eyes changed to a dark blue, the sharp edges of his jaw softened. For the briefest of moments, it was as though she was looking at Dash. She blinked, and his face was gone, replaced by the one of her soulmate.

"You okay?"

Her brow furrowed. "Yeah." She wasn't sure if she was convincing him, but she definitely knew she wasn't convincing herself. She turned then, sliding through the contacts of her cell phone as she headed for the door, Killian in tow. She dialed Ingrid and waited as it rang once, twice, three times.

"Hey, it's Ingrid. You know what to do." BEEP.

As she climbed into the car, Freya let out a sharp breath. "Ingrid. Call me. Now." She hung up, trying to bite back the scream building in her throat. Something had to have happened. Ingrid wouldn't just walk away like that. She couldn't. Could she?

Silence filled the car as the pair sped through town. She climbed from the passenger seat at her mother's house, hanging back for just a moment. "Be careful around Dash," she said to Killian, her expression serious. "I don't trust him." Something passed across his features, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't pin point it. "I'll call you if we find out anything." He nodded, murmured a goodbye, and then pulled out of the driveway.

The last thing Freya needed right now was for something to be happening with Killian. Maybe it was just the stress she'd been under.

She glanced down the darkened street, the hair on the back of her neck rising. Someone, something was watching her. She was sure of it. So she darted up the stairs to the house and pushed open the door. She found her mother quickly, sitting at the kitchen table, the letter open before her. "Have you heard from her?" Joanna looked up, her eyes rimmed in red, and shook her head.

How did we get to this point? How did we lose Dad, Freddie, and Wendy only for Ingrid to be lost as well? Why was my family falling apart?

Freya grabbed the letter from the table, turning her back on her mother to read it.

Mom—

I'm so sorry. I know the timing right now sucks, really sucks. But when would the timing ever be right to say goodbye?

I've spent my entire life in this little town, never changing, never living, never really growing. It's time for me to spread my wings and learn to fly. I need to find my own way to grieve, not just for Wendy, or Dad, or Freddie, but there are others—Adam, Hudson, Kyle Hutton—that I need to make reparations for.

I don't know when if I'll return to East End. I have a lot to figure out, and I need to do this alone. Send my love to Freya, and please don't think either of you are the reason I left. I'm doing this for me, and me alone.

Love,
Ingrid Beauchamp

She felt her heart breaking in her chest with each word. Slowly, Freya lowered herself into the chair beside her mother's, reading over the letter a second, a third time. Even though coming in, she'd thought someone forced this on her sister, but reading the words… It sounded more like Ingrid than any stranger could compose.

"Ingrid has never left like this. Even in her life, where she loved Archibald, she kept close to me. I-I don't understand." Freya wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders, trying to be her strength.

"We can use a locator spell. We can find her and go after her," she said in a gentle voice.

"I already tried!" Tears streamed down her mother's face. "She's done something to block it."

What could Freya say or do to comfort her mother? Why in the world would Ingrid do this? Something drove her to make a decision like this. Something happened to her. Something changed when they were brought back to life. She tried to think back over the last several months, over all that had happened where Ingrid was involved.

She felt her anger flare up. Dash. She'd mentioned the man Dash killed as someone she needed to atone for. The blood wasn't on her hands; it was on his. Why would she feel the need to atone for something she didn't do?

Freya tried Ingrid's cell once more. This time, it went straight to voicemail. She groaned to herself, then pressed Killian's name on her phone list. "Hey," he answered. She felt some of the weight on her shoulders lessen.

"Hey, I think Ingrid really left on her own," she said, "It has to do with Dash."

"How do you know this?"

"Something she said in the letter. I just have a bad…feeling. Don't go to see him, please." She heard him let out a sigh. "Not without me. We'd be stronger together if he tries to pull something."

"Freya…"

"I'm serious. He did something to my sister—"

"He didn't do anything to your sister. Other than protect her from Kyle Hutton." Freya was taken aback by the intensity in his words, the name of the man written in Ingrid's letter. "He cared for her. Wanted to be a different man for her."

Something was off. Killian was too intent, too sure of what he was saying. He didn't sound like himself. He hadn't been acting like himself. "Killian, where are you?"

"I'm going to find Ingrid." Then the line went dead.