AN: I just want to say thank you to everyone who stuck in there and finished this. Huge thanks to all those who had read the original and took the journey again, as well as to everyone who fave, followed, and shared their thoughts. A heartfelt and special thanks to Tiny who kept me motivated, PRed several chaps, and for over all being my muse and inspiration not just with this story, but all of them.

Also for anyone (i know there's a few) wondering about RotF, the one that follows this one, it's not completely ruled out, but if i do decide to continue with the redo it won't be for a couple weeks. Thank you all again so much.

Pokie

EPILOGUE: Something to Hold Onto

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Saint. Dymphna's Mental Institute-12:26 p.m.

(BO'S POV)

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"So, how is she?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from the little index card sized window in door. Three full minutes of staring in there waiting for-something and she doesn't so much as move. Just lays there with her back to me in a ball in the far corner of the room. Her white clothes causing her to blend in perfectly, had I not actually known what to look for, probably could have mistaken the room for empty.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked how she was." My eyebrow raised, as I follow him down the hall. He doesn't look up at me, just continues staring at the folder in his hand. "For the head of the institute you don't seemed to be very informed."

"Well, it's just that yours is a question with many answers, no definitive one. An answer now would simply be irresponsible and-."

"Doctor, speak to me as though you're not afraid I could kill you in the blink of an eye." I glance at him, his eyes now on me. "As though I am not the wife of the Queen."

"O-okay." He lets out hesitantly, giving me a half nod. "Over the past month she's been in our care we have ran over a hundred and fifteen tests. In my expert opinion, and those of who I-."

"Doctor."

"Danielle is not insane now, nor has she ever been. She was under no delusion when she-had her incidents. She clearly knows right from wrong, as well as she remembers everything she has done with no regret. Well, at least not what norm-most, I mean most people would feel regret for."

"Then what?"

"She regrets her failures. Often she strategically replays the memories back and thinks of ways she could have done things different. Often it involves killing more and more people, occasionally making a killing more violent. She continuously comes up with new ways to kill you and someone named Niko."

"I see."

"You wish for me to speak to you as someone who is not in your position?"

"I do."

"Your daughter is a murder, no gray area. She is a sick and twisted individual who would have snapped in due time no matter what course of events played out. She is sick, but not insane and I cannot fathom her ever being a functioning member of society again. And-."

"And?"

"If she was anyone other than the Queen's and yours daughter, I would strongly recommend execution."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing she isn't anyone else."

"Of course," He lets out, bowing his head realizing he had overstepped. "I'm sorry."

"This fascination with her mother, what is it?"

"We aren't sure what it is exactly."

"How can you not be sure?" I snort. "Is it sexual or is it-?" I trail off, the disgusting taste in my mouth making my stomach turn.

"We don't believe it's sexual no, at least not traditionally."

"There's a way other than traditionally?" Another snort escaping as we come to a stop, just several feet from the exit.

"What we know as of now regarding her obsession is that it's unlike anything we've seen before. She desperately wants to relate to her mother, to be cherished the way she believes your son has been. At times it's as though she wants to become her mother. Not take her place, but actually become her. As for the sexual component here, I think that it is a young, sick girl's twisted mind coupled with the awakening of her sucubi nature that has erased certain boundaries of acceptability."

"Yeah," I can't help chuckling coldly to myself. "I'd say."

"There are lines of acceptability for everyone, and where one such as yourself and even myself might see Danielle's behavior toward her mother as strictly that, it really might not be the same in her mind. There are theories proposed by several colleagues that propose the more-sexual nature of some of her behavior is the only way she knows to compete with you. That if she believes she cannot replace Sean for her mother's affection than she will replace you."

"Lovely."

"Just for a piece of mind, in the Day of the Ancients families would have orgies together."

"Excuse me?"

"Not with one another, but in the same area-as a family."

"You can leave now." I snap, eyes narrowing.

I wait for him to bow again before turning and walking away. What kind of sick shit is that to suggest to me-okay well maybe he wasn't exactly suggesting it, but-disgusting. Running my hands through my hair, trying to shake the thought I make my way out into the corridor, pace slowing almost instantly to find Lauren sitting on one of the benches. My first instinct to turn back around, walk back in and find another exit-yet like the masochist I am, I find myself closing the distance between us.

"I wouldn't recommend checking in here, they seem to favor execution."

"I know, it's my policy."

"Oh." Of course.

"At least you got them to tell you outright, I had to read through the nineteen files to find out their true recommendation."

"They let you read the-ah yes, the Queen." I roll my eyes to myself, suddenly happy she hadn't bothered to turn to look at me. "How have you been?"

"Good." She nods. "Fine." Another nod. "Alright-horrible honestly, but busy. Turns out that cleaning up after an insane, sadistic cult who had more followers than the state of Road Island is rather a lot of work."

"I'd bet."

"Few senators, religious leaders, various other public figures, amongst quote unquote regular people. We did get most though." She falls silent, for a minute causing me to look down, but where I stand I can't really see her face. "I really made a mess of things."

"It wasn't-."

"All my fault?"

"There's plenty of blame to be passed around for everything that happened."

"Yeah, but I'm responsible for most of it. Thank you though." She shrugs. "I'm trying this newfound thing called honesty and owning my mistakes. I even plan to try and learn from them this time around."

"Sounds like a bitch."

"Oh, you have no idea." She draws in this deep breath. "I am taking steps to make sure this will never happen again."

"How so?" I bite, maneuvering from behind to the side of the bench. Eyes moving over her pain ridden features, and as much as I hate to admit it, it actually hurts me. "You're not stepping down, are you?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Sadly I can't do that unless I want to forfeit my life. I am finding someone to rule the Light under my supervision. There had been no outside party who was not emotionally attached to the situation to step in when things began to derail, so now there will be."

"Oh, but I thought that-you know what?" I shrug, shaking my head. "I don't even know what I thought, Fae laws are beyond my tenth grade education."

"No, there isn't supposed to be another ruling party unless it's my partner nor is it supposed to be someone of an opposing side, but I think it would be wise." She brushes past the comment. "Also might need some help smoothing things over a bit, they'd still be under my ruling but if needed then-you get the point."

"Any ideas on who?" For the first time, she looks up to me. "Who-me?" I ask, near mortified at the idea.

"No Bo, I think I've tortured you far more than enough for a single life time." The statement I know was meant to be a joke, lighten the mood, yet it only seems to hit a nerve. The tension that was once lessened by a topic outside of us now returning. The silence causing her to look away, well she was looking away until something catches her attention. It only takes a second to figure out what, my hand instinctively being shoved into my pocket. "I didn't mean to stare, I just-I've been wondering if we-?"

"Yeah, me too." It's my turn to look away, sigh escaping as I cautiously take a seat beside her.

"Should I expect divorce papers sometime soon?"

"No," I shake my head. "But I wouldn't expect me in bed anytime soon either." I manage to meet the same nastiness in her tone effortlessly.

"Can I at least expect you home soon?"

"No."

"Well, then that's that." She snorts, looking away from me now.

"Yeah."

"Bo, I'm sor-."

"No." I find myself jumping up, taking a step backward. "I can't do this-can't have this talk. Not here and not now. I can't." I can hear the panic in my voice, my breathing heavying as I start to feel another panic attack coming on. I stare down at her, nodding at me with this heartbroken look. "You and me-to me Lauren, we will never be over."

"Well, that's something to hold onto then."

"Yeah." I nod. "Yeah, it is." We share this smile, it's forced but there's something genuine underneath it. Or maybe just wishful thinking. Small steps as I begin to back away.

I wish I was, but I'm just not ready to be around her, to speak to her, or even see her. Yet, I'm still not ready to say goodbye. It's been three weeks, five days and twenty two hours since we last saw each other and while seeing her face brings back every painful memory, it also brings back this sliver of comfort. Brings back the memory, the feeling of love-almost enough to make me consider this space idea of mine.

Sadly, it's only enough to me reconsider it, not enough to actually change my mind.

Tearing my eyes away from her face, her features so exquisite yet broken. There's a certain unique beauty her pain accentuates. Maybe it's just the fact that, that pain so evident in her eyes, in her features is a strong reminder she's 'her' again. She's the real her-at least someone near who I know.

I force myself to turn around and walk away. Each hesitant step taken feeling like I'm dying just a little bit more, but as much as it hurts-it's right. Sniffing back the feeling of tears, shoving my hands back in my pockets, hiding my ring from no one really other than myself. Honestly at this moment, there is no glimpse of hope for us, no hope that things will be okay. No hope that things will ever work out for us, and the more I think about it, the more I think that maybe-we were never meant to be.

Though, time is of no consequence for us-that's something to hold onto.

After all, who knows what will be in twenty or fifty or a hundred years?

The only thing I am sure of is that I still love her as much as the day we met, and nothing will ever change that.