"Her name is Iona."

Abby curled up on the couch beside Sasha, starting with the simplest things that she knew.

"She was born in 1962. She died when she was 27. She worked at the Ministry library. She was engaged to be married. She was a Ravenclaw."

Abby smiled sadly at Sasha. Maybe that was why Iona loved to wear blue.

"She's stubborn and stoic and persnickety. She's clever and sharp and amusing. I feel like I've known her for forever. I hate that she's dead because I think we would have been friends. She's smirking at me now, in my head."

Her mouth twisted into a sad little smirk of her own. Abby had asked Sasha to come over to her flat tonight, prepared to tell him everything in order to prepare him for what was coming later in the month. She'd just made an appointment with Level Nine earlier that day, picking the furthest date she could possibly pick before half of the Ministry skedaddled to celebrate Christmas. Abby wasn't completely, entirely sure she was going to go through with the pentral removal. She wanted to get Sasha's opinion, especially if he were going to be working with the Unspeakables. Most of all, she just needed to tell him, needed to share what had been weighing on her, despite Carstairs and Morgenthau expressly asking her to keep it on Level Two.

A few strands of fairy lights hung over the large picture window across from the living room, the soft glow making Sasha's face look especially warm and kind. Abby reached for the necklace she wore, fidgeting with the spooky eye pendant that Nemo had given her.

She took a deep breath, and told him.

She started with the interview on November 15th, when she'd first met Yavin Morgenthau and he'd asked to look into her head to find out what the pentral knew.[1] She described fleeing to her own 'mind palace' while the pentral stayed conscious with Carstairs. They intended to persuade the pentral to pass on, for good. For the good of Abby too. Thanks to the pentral, they now knew that Lori Lilly had been a squib living alone in a mansion, and that the people they thought of as the Lilly siblings were not related to her at all. They'd swooped in, killed Lori, and turned her into a pentral, impersonating her and another sorry squib. Their names were not Lori and Lee Lilly, but Lorelei and Leander Hunt.

Meanwhile, Yavin had persuaded Abby to think about facing the death chamber. For the good of the pentral.

Meanwhile, Iona had panicked.

Abby did tell him about the hex from Carstairs, though she hesitated for a long moment beforehand, and tried to make jokes after which fell flat. Abby did not tell Sasha that Carstairs had known the Hunt siblings at school, and had figured out Iona's name first. It felt too personal.

After a pause to make some cocoa and find some marshmallows, Abby settled back on the couch and told him about the second interview. November 21st.[2] On the same day that Sasha had been on Level Nine talking to Yavin, she'd been on Level Two talking to Carstairs and Trevelyan. Or rather, Iona had.

Iona had gone to school with the Hunt siblings. After she'd graduated, she'd started work at the Ministry and eventually moved in with her boyfriend, Leander. They'd avoided his family and created a home together. They'd been happy, mostly, until 1989.

They'd let Lorelei into their happy little flat. Everything had gone to hell then. Iona had discovered the unicorn blood solution that could save Lorelei, and Leander had left to go fetch it.

At some point, Lorelei or Leander or both had killed Iona. They'd taken her identity as a pentral. They'd fled to Iona's cousin's house. They'd killed the cousin Lori, started a collection of pentrals, until finally...

Lorelei and Leander had kidnapped Abby and adopted Calix, intending on killing them and taking on their identities.

After another break, when Abby added coffee liqueur to her cocoa, she told Sasha that she'd met Iona's family that same week in November.[3]

"Her name is Iona McBoid," Abby paused, sipping at her cocoa, giving that time to sink in. "She's related somehow to Moira. Donnan, Iona's father, is an uncle to Angus, Moira's father. I met them all. Angus, Duncan, Donnan, and Iona's mother Marianne."

She looked down at her hands. That meeting had been heartbreaking. Tears. Anger. Guilt. Grief. She didn't have to describe it for Sasha to understand.

1.	We know not the fire in which we burn
2.	Never will I sleep like that again
3.	Not your average funeral

Apart from the occasional clarifying question, when it felt absolutely necessary, Sasha remained quiet as he listened.  He knew, from personal experience, recounting stories like these were often like biking up a hill: all of it was difficult but getting started was, by far, the most painful part and it didn't necessarily get easier with each passing stop sign or crosswalk. 

When the story faltered or she hesitated, he waited patiently for her to find her own pace, again, on her own time.  Though he couldn't quite meet Abby in the humor of her jokes following the revelation of Carstairs' hex, he thought he managed to avoid expressing too much reflexive anger.  At the declaration of cocoa breaks, he followed her lead and took some cocoa, fixing his own cup and augmenting the emotional storytelling break with amusing quotes from Elf and other appropriately holiday-themed movies.  Movies that, would no doubt, be on a list of much-watches for later in the month.

By the sounds of it, they were both going to need them. 

Abby spoke of meeting with the pentral's family and reached a definitive silence, dropping her gaze.  Under his breath, Sasha breathed a quiet "Scheiß," before falling quiet, himself. 

There was a lot to digest and unpack; a lot of different individual perspectives and motivations.  Ministry officials who thought of things in terms of pragmatic solutions.  An until-recently nameless victim who had been trapped, lost for over two decades and who had managed to escape but was now facing death, once again.  A family who, presumably, had spent two decades hoping beyond a diminishing hope only to have a potential reunion at their fingertips yet with the known certainty of having to lose their loved one for good.  Again. 

And, Abby.  At the center of it all.  Because, bearing that burden - that responsibility - had been the price of her own survival. 

"I'm so sorry."  He reached for one of the hands in her lap, carefully folding it enveloping it between his own. 

For the last few months, Sasha had come to accept the pentral's presence as, for the foreseeable future, an unavoidable component of their relationship.  Iona.  Not pentral.  Iona.  He'd never grown to trust it but, despite the occasional awkward tendency to make an appearance, Sasha had never seen anything to suggest this Iona was an escalating threat.  Of course, all beings with any amount of consciousness could lash out for the sake of self-preservation.  That, alone, was sufficient motivation for Sasha to see the value with the Ministry's plans.  But, he hadn't spent the last four months sharing his being with Iona, let alone owing her his life. 

Except, he did owe Abby's life to Iona.  And, if Lorelei's plans had worked - and she'd returned using Abby's body - maybe he was being too quick to assume those who were close to Abby didn't owe Iona their own lives, as well. 

"This is mad," he breathed, again, shaking his head.  He took a slow sip of the spiked hot cocoa as he tried to sift through all of the information and his own thoughts, trying to find something to say that was both more helpful than his previous pointless remarks yet didn't burden her with the weight of his own worries and fears. 

"So, the plan is for you to escort the woman that saved you to her own ... second death," Sasha summarized, not entirely convinced he'd achieved either of those two goals.  "After having met her family and knowing what she went through ... and saved you from.  That-"  That seemed an immensely impossible thing to ask of someone. 

As he sifted through the information, two important pieces of information seemed to be missing from the story.  Sasha opted for the easier question to ask, first.  "What does Iona want?"

Abby interlaced her fingers with Sasha’s and fell silent as he processed everything she’d just told him. Hearing about even one of her experiences was enough to overwhelm those close to her, including her parents who were reeling from the little she’d been able to tell them. All they wanted was for the pentral to get out. They didn’t care that the pentral had a name, or feelings, or was basically a person. They cared that Abby cared, and worried about Abby’s feelings. They didn’t care what happened to Iona once she was out, as long as Abby went back to normal.

She imagined that most parents would feel that way, whether they wrapped it up prettily or pretended otherwise. Abby was their priority. We won’t lose you again, they said, not after everything you’ve been through. Don’t you want to get your life back?

They didn’t quite understand that even if she separated from the pentral, she wouldn’t be normal. She’d never be the girl that she’d been at seventeen. She would have to find a new way of being, a new kind of normal, one that took into account the loss of Iona. One that re-imagined her identity as one soul.

Aileen was much more understanding. She’d offered to go through the pentral removal with Abby on the same day later in December. Without her, Abby likely would not have made the appointment. But Aileen’s end goal was no different from their parent’s.

Only Sasha, so far, summed up exactly how she felt, seeming to understand her perspective without her explaining and justifying it.

“Yes, exactly,” she blinked in surprise. “It’s like a betrayal.”

Only Sasha, so far, asked one of the questions she most wanted someone to ask. What did Iona want?

She looked at him for a long moment, a tiny, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The pentral stirred in her mind, but didn’t take over or interfere. Abby knew what Iona wanted. They’d shared each other’s thoughts often enough, even more so since Iona had revealed her identity.

Abby took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “All she wanted at first was not to die again, and not to be put in some kind of prison. She’s scared of death like anyone else is. She’s scared of the Hunt siblings like everyone else. She just had a lot of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of being trapped, fear of where she would go when she died.”

Iona still had a lot of fear, but the fear had mixed with hope since the meetings in November.

“After meeting her family, though? She knows now that they love and miss her and always have. Level Two showed her more sympathy than she expected. She cares about some of the same people I care about. So she has ties here. Part of her really wants to live.”

Iona wanted to live despite the damage that had been done to her soul and sense of self. How much of it was repairable? Was Abby making her feel more human, or was sharing with Abby holding her back and confusing her? Had death itself caused it, or the amount of time she’d been trapped. These were questions with no answers.

“She wants to live, but she doesn’t want to keep hurting me just by existing. We both know we can’t keep on like this…”

Abby trailed off, gaze turning distant and sad. They were lucky that Yavin had a plan and that it was going well. Time was running out.

“Yes, exactly.  It’s like a betrayal.”

Sasha gave Abby's hand a gentle squeeze, trying to convey his support without directly trying to dismiss those feelings.  Even if the label of 'betrayal' felt like a vast over-simplification from the outside, he knew that much of what he loved about Abby left her vulnerable to those feelings.  For anyone to agree to the Ministry's plans without some guilt or regret required a degree of callousness that Abby simply didn't possess.  Nor would he want her to.

It didn't feel like his place to convince her it wasn't a betrayal.  He would remind her that her survival was worth the betrayal, if it came to that.  And, maybe, if they could find a way out of this that both Abby and Iona were comfortable with, it wouldn't come to that. 

"That's entirely understandable," Sasha offered as Abby spoke of Iona's fears.  "She was tricked, betrayed, abused and trapped.  And, then she managed to escape.  She's been seeing the perception of a second chance.  It's -"  He hesitated a moment, taking a sip of cocoa to buy himself a moment to think.  His attempt to find a useful alternative to his thought process failed and he shook his head.  "It's incredibly unfair."

But, in the broad scheme of things, that fact didn't matter.  Life - and death - weren't fair.  The last three years had taught him that many times over. 

"But, isn't this ... being stuck inside another person just another kind of prison?"

Sasha wanted to believe there was some comfort in knowing that Iona did care about how this ended for Abby as well as for herself.  Even if that was genuine - and not skewed by Abby's own hopes or perceptions - it was any easy thing to believe now, when they weren't faced with a point of no return.  Self-preservation was a powerful force; Sasha had killed a man to stay alive. 

How much would Abby's well-being matter to Iona, once she was faced with the finality of the Death Chamber?

Which brought Sasha to the more uncomfortable of those two initial questions. 

"What do you think she's capable of?" he asked, quietly, cradling the warm ceramic mug in his free hand.  "If she were to panic or decide she absolutely didn't want to go through with their plan.  I mean - I've seen her take control, without you being aware.  Do you think, if it came down to it ... what do you think she's willing to do to survive.  Whatever that means."

Abby lightly squeezed his hand back, appreciating his support as he summed up Iona's experience. She hoped, not for the first time, that Sasha had someone to talk to about everything she was telling him. One of the toughest things about involving friends and family was that they themselves didn't always have someone to go to about the uniqueness of her problems. She'd thought that Sasha and Virgil could talk to each other, but she wasn't so sure anymore if they had that kind of friendship.

"It is another kind of prison, except we are both prisoners, in a sense."

Abby had more control over things than Iona did, it was her body and her life that Iona had changed, but it wasn't a good situation for either of them. They each had a mind palace with many rooms, but the palaces still functioned as prisons while sharing with another soul, and the longer they stayed like this the greater chance that the palaces would merge and then collapse.

She took a long sip of cocoa, surprised at the phrasing of his question. Her family continually asked what the risks were to her, but they didn't speak in terms of Iona's actions, mind, or agency. Most saw Iona as an odd sort of force who appeared at odd times. Not quite a person.

Abby set the mug down on the coffee table and straightened, a flicker of Iona's awareness in her eyes.

"She hasn't hurt anyone before and she doesn't plan to start now."

Abby paused, volleying a series of thoughts in the pentral's direction. No, Lori's death wasn't your fault. No, you couldn't have stopped them from using the unicorn blood. Yes, I understand you'd hurt the Hunts if - when they come after us.

"When she's under pressure, she freezes or yells or runs. I know some pentrals have become violent, but she hasn't hurt anybody. I just don't see it in her. I don't think she'd push me out. She feels protective of me."

Abby took a deep breath. "If it came down to it, she might take over and run away."

Iona offered no protest to this. She glanced down unhappily at her hands, remembering Iona pounding on the door of Carstairs' office.

Abby didn't mention the dangers if Iona ran before they even made it to the chamber on Level Nine. Sasha was likely already worrying about it.

"But Yavin says that if one of us starts to panic, we can always go back, talk, and start again. So that's something?"

Some of Iona's wry cynicism filtered into her voice and tugged her mouth up in a smirk.

Sasha opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated and closed it again.  For the past few months, his role in this whole matter had been one of passive support: be an ear to listen, shoulder to lean on or a source of reassurance as the situation dictated.  A solid source of support, devoid of any attempts to see Abby as a solvable puzzle, seemed to have been what she needed the most and he'd been more than happy to offer at least that much. 

There had been times he'd wished he could do or offer more, but there had always been plenty of people, more qualified than himself, involved with that actual, direct problem solving.  He'd been careful to hold his tongue at times, not wanting to complicate or add another source of stress to the situation by adding a perspective that wasn't directly involved.  So, for a moment, he was hesitant to contradict her perspective; encouraging her to question her view of Iona had been something he'd actively avoid before. 

After that moment of hesitation, he committed to voicing his thought, though he offered what he hoped was an apologetic grimace.  "I hadn't planned on hurting anyone.  I never thought I could kill someone until I knew I was going to die." 

Iona wasn't the only potential risk in this plan the Ministry had decided upon. 

Again, trying to offer the question as gently as he could, Sasha asked: "wasn't it when Iona tried to run away that Carstairs had hexed you?  What if running isn't an option?" 

He wasn't as willing as Abby to take Morgenthau's reassurance at face value - or trust that Carstairs would be on board with it.  He knew very little of Morgenthau and even less about Carstairs.  But, clearly, the man's willingness to hex a squib when the pentral had tried to flee a simple interview said as much as Sasha needed to know.  He clearly didn't take kindly to things not going according to his plan and he had no qualms about using magic against the defenseless to achieve it. 

What??

Iona thought so loudly that Abby winced. Abby let her memory flow back, putting the pieces in chronological order for Iona's benefit. Abby rarely thought about it in terms of what Sasha had done to survive. When she remembered, she remembered Sasha with his family during Christmas, and Sasha losing his family, and Sasha in a terrible position. She thought about it factually now. Someone had invaded his house and killed his family. He'd shot off a curse to defend himself. He hadn't completely realized what that curse would do.

Her thoughts fringed on Malvivicus kidnapping him before that point, but Abby danced around it, not about to let in a new headache. She zoned out for a long moment, her gaze growing vacant and then focusing on Sasha's voice as Iona mulled things over.

"If running isn't an option..." she repeated slowly, rubbing at the side of her face. Her mind raced, trying to keep up with Iona's thoughts.

She gave Sasha an uncertain, nearly apologetic look.

"Iona wants to speak to you. In person. Is that alright?"

Abby doubted her ability to translate all the pentral's thoughts and feelings. She had to trust Iona, and trust Sasha, and take a mental step back.

When he answered, her face changed minutely. Her gaze turned sharper, her brow smoothed, her chin lifted up. She studied him, the young fellow with such gentle words and killing curses. She stood.

"Iona," she stuck out a hand for him to shake. Might as well meet each other officially.

She took a seat again, leaving a gap of a few feet between them on the couch.

"You're concerned that I would let Abby die if given the choice," she said bluntly but neutrally, lending no more weight to death than to anything else she'd said.

Iona let her gaze drift to the fireplace at the end of the living room where Abby and Raine had placed photos and other decorative items on the mantle, where they floo'd to friend's houses and to work and to visit family. How many steps to the fire, to the floo powder in a bowl? Ten? Fifteen? Abby was good at running, but so was she. She'd helped her run the twenty or thirty feet across the living room that day in the lakehouse, with dementors at the windows and smoke choking the air.

She wouldn't have saved Abby just to kill her in the end. Iona opened her mouth, then shook her head. No, that wasn't correct.

Iona looked at Sasha again, unsure if he would try to understand. Here she was, a cynical old soul speaking for herself, but speaking the truth was always dangerous. It was the most dangerous thing.

"When I first possessed Abby at the lakehouse, it wasn't a fully conscious decision. I was in that portrait, on the wall, watching Calix and Leander fighting. Abby had dropped the knife and the fire had started and she was the one who had ripped the canvas and made it possible for me to get out. And so I got out. I fled to her. She was warm and generous and bright and you know this."

She gestured then, quicker and stiffer than Abby's natural movements.

"I don't know if I could have stopped myself from picking her. I didn't try. It was instinct. I'd only known her for a few minutes, her and the boy, Calix. Abby was apart. Calix was closer to Leander and I didn't want to go there."

Her gaze drifted again, then fixed back on Sasha.

"If you're asking what would I do now, would my instinct take over, would I fight to live? It's possible."

Her breathing came quicker, anticipating scorn, distrust, anger. He'd shown none of that to Abby. She took a calming breath.

"I've known her for months and she's become a friend. No, like family. Abby is like family. If the choice is me or her, death or life, I'm going to fight to save her with everything I have. There is no other option."

Her eyes turned bleak and bitter but met his directly, knowing from Abby that he knew what that felt like.

Abby visibly winced and Sasha's brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion.  "I'm sorry if I'm being too-" he started to offer, but hesitated.  She had asked for his opinion but, for a moment, he wasn't sure if he should have tempered his thoughts a little bit more. 

Before he could sort out exactly what he wanted to say, Iona, through Abby, was asking to speak to him.  Apart from the general weirdness of it, he couldn't see the harm so he nodded in consent and sat up straighter on the couch when she stood up. 

Trying to ignore both feeling surreal and foolish at the same time, he took the offered hand.  "Allo," he offered with a slight nod.  "Sasha.  But, I suspect you know that already.  We've ... at least I'm fairly certain we've met before.  If not...formally."  There was no doubt.  This was weird. 

"You're concerned that I would let Abby die if given the choice."

It had been a statement rather than a question.  More of a summation of Sasha's own questions - a summation that wasn't entirely accurate, but a summation none-the-less.  Sasha opted to remain quiet and listen to the pentral's elaboration rather than immediately correct her.  For the moment, he had to let some elements of Iona's story filter through without much more than a cursory consideration; now was not the time to get lost in pondering an alternate reality where Iona had chosen Calix and not Abby.  There would be time for that later. 

Eyes fixed on him that were both Abby's and not Abby's; Sasha shifted his seat uneasily but he met the eerily unfamiliar gaze.  Finally, after Iona remained quiet for several moments, Sasha slowly shook his head. 

"I was very much asking about capability rather than intent or will.  I want to believe, from what I've seen, that you don't mean her ill.  And, I can't ever express how grateful I am that you got her out.  I just need to know ... if -" he hesitated a moment, starting to drop his gaze to reach for the cup of cocoa but he forced himself to stop and look back. 

"What are you capable of?  If things go bad and you panic.  If they lied and what they plan to do is something entirely different than they told you or they try to use you against her.  Or her against you.  If the siblings ever got in a position to use you against her.  If ... I don't know." 

Sasha shifted his position to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Iona.  "As far as I can see, the Ministry has decided to test a single solution that, on the surface, seems to be entirely for the benefit of Abby and with no regard for you.  But, she's the test run, isn't she?  To see if this will work on the others in her position.  I'm trying to figure out how much risk they've decided is acceptable in order to see if their first solution to the problem will work." 

Iona stared at Sasha curiously, steadily. He seemed to want reassurances and answers she couldn't possibly give.

"I don't know," she sat still, and followed his glance to the mugs of cocoa. Hers was cooling on the table. No, that wouldn't help them. They couldn't divine their future in the marshmallows.

"As far as I can tell, I'm capable of a fat lot of nothing."

Though bitterness seeped into her voice, it wasn't aimed towards him. She appreciated that he understood her. He didn't see malice in the different and unknown just yet.

"I have no magic. The magic is gone. I've tried. It's just gone."

She glanced down at her hands, curled tight against her knees. Iona chose not to go into detail about how she'd borrowed a few wands she'd seen left laying around for anyone to try. She'd felt nothing, and put the wands back. Abby hadn't liked that, but what else were slumber parties and other social occasions for?

"I have no defense against legilimens. Certainly not against Yavin, and not even against his enfant terrible." She cocked her head, listening to Abby go into a flurry of scolding about her inability to keep secrets for friends. Iona scowled, "The point is, I build a wall, they take it down. I run, I get hexed. I thought I'd be stronger than that. I've no idea what they're truly capable of, and I don't know how to gauge my capability in response."

That went for anyone. The Hunt siblings, the Ministry, Abby's friends and family. Her smarts did little good against people with magic, however they intended to use it.

"I do know that Abby is not the first test subject," her eyebrows drew together in slight confusion. Or so she'd heard through the grapevine. "Others have made appointments. You might be in a position to find out how those went?"

One corner of her mouth quirked up and one shoulder lifted, her best attempt at casual friendliness.

Sasha nodded his head, finding it easier to accept Iona's uncertainty at face value than the previous insistence of good intentions.  Finally, with a slow sigh, he reached out to pick up his mug of cocoa before shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Iona. 

"Abby isn't capable of magic."  It was a frank statement of the obvious; with his limited knowledge of the whole situation, Sasha had assumed Iona's abilities were limited by Abby's.  It was also easier to remind her of that than it was to point out that the ghostly presence of wizards and witches that remained behind also couldn't use magic.  The parts of a person that were left behind didn't seem to hold on to magic. 

He also resisted the urge to point out that not being capable of magic didn't make Iona incapable of anything.  But, this wasn't the time or place for that conversation.   

"Besides.  I can use magic and, other than recite pi, I'm not sure even I have any defenses against Morgenthau or ... Virgil," he admitted, glancing up at her for confirmation that he'd correctly identified Enfant terrible.  There were just so many variables.  So many people with their own motivations and hopes.  And the ones who were taking the biggest leap of faith were those least capable of defending themselves, should things not go to plan. 

Including Iona, it sounded like. 

"It's possible I could find out," Sasha confirmed with a nod.  "But, even if things go well by their standards, that means ... their pentral passed on.  Either willingly or ... by force."  Given what Abby had said about the other pentrals, he could see either being possibilities.  "Which is something she'll have to carry with her for the rest of her life."  That, more than anything, had been the purpose of his previous question - the rougher this whole thing played out, the heavier the emotional toll would be. 

"Did Morganthau or Carstairs mention any alternatives?  Did they look at other options that might be less ... that might give you more options?" 

Iona nodded, confirming Sasha's guess. Virgil. Enfant terrible, pesky and nosy, no worse than that, but still, it annoyed her that the Carstairs branch of the family tree always had the upper hand.

"Likely not, you think too much," she informed him, expecting to set off another flurry of scoldings from Abby and unspoken thoughts from Sasha, just computing like 3.141592653 behind those keen eyes of his. But Abby laughed in her head, bringing a smirk to Iona's mouth.

Yes she knew! Thinking too much (a lot) had little to do with whether a legilimens could read someone. She also knew that Abby was a squib. Even after all these years, however, she knew better than to sidetrack and debate with a fellow Ravenclaw.

So with great effort, she refrained from snapping at him as he mentioned the burden Abby would have to carry upon her death. Iona drew back, eyebrows knitting together, frowning at his concern. Really? Abby would get to live. She'd have a life.

"Did Morganthau or Carstairs mention any alternatives?..."

She let out a grumbling sigh and tilted her head up. "No."

Iona picked at a piece of fuzz on her socks. "I'd already told them they were taking the easy way out, sending me off to my second death. Sol looked flummoxed at the very thought that he would have a degree of influence over things happening on Level Nine, so I didn't bother to ask either of them. Didn't see the point. If I had," she inspected the fuzz up close, and put it on the table beside the couch. "I'm sure they would have said something like, time is of the essence."

She looked at Sasha, knowing he knew this even as she spoke. "They're not wrong."

Iona watched Sasha a moment longer, then feigned interest in her socks again.

"Likely not, you think too much."

For the first time, Sasha offered Iona a half grin and his shoulders hitched up in an apologetic shrug.  "My thought process isn't always the most linear," he admitted, finally relaxing enough in the pentral's full presence to settle back into the corner of the couch. 

He cradled the warm ceramic mug between both hands and diverted his gaze down to the light layer of foam that circled lazily on the top of the drink, watching its movement almost meditatively as he listened to the pentral's explanation.  He wasn't surprised that neither Carstairs nor Morgenthau had mentioned alternatives; professionals tended to offer their professional opinion without presenting all the various options they'd considered and dismissed along the way. 

"It just seems like there has to be other potential solutions.   Ones that doesn't just save one of you at the sacrifice of the other," Sasha voiced aloud, shaking his head, scowling in thought. 

Still scowling intently, he shook his head, confirming he understood that they were not wrong.  He'd definitely extrapolated that time was of the essence from the story. 

"But, from what I'm understanding, it sounds like they know how to separate the two of you and when ... not in corporal form ... you have some ability to chose to whom or where you go," Sasha offered slowly, a questioning tone playing in his voice as he looked to Iona or Abby - he had no idea how aware Abby was of the current conversation - for confirmation or correction. 

"But, the core problem lies in two souls occupying the same being.  I ... doesn't that help point us towards the solution?" he asked.  "Potential alternatives seem glaringly obvious."

Iona didn't relax, exactly, but she felt surprised and a smidgen glad when Sasha appeared more comfortable around her. She reached over to the table and lifted Abby's mug of cocoa, glancing down into it. Melted marshmallows. Was that what he was looking at?

She sipped at the drink, then set it back down with a face. Too sweet. Food and drink tasted differently to her than they did to Abby.

Iona studied scowling Sasha for a long moment, trying to figure out if he was simply bothered by the unfairness of it all, if he wanted to discuss the possibilities to understand her fate better, or if some part of him would feel better knowing that he'd considered the options, regardless of the outcome. He'd sat and thought and considered, which was more than most did.

She nodded at his questioning tone. She'd chosen to possess Abby, as much as acting on instinct could be considered a choice.

"Are they obvious?" Iona tilted her head, genuinely wanting to know.

"I've lived in an inanimate object before. That's no life. I don't know of any way to return spirits to their own bodies, at least to those who have been dead for as long as I have."

She let out a shiver. No one would want that.

"If I were to inhabit another body, even someone who is comatose or the victim of a dementor attack, I'm still possessing a person. Someone who was and still is a person. Would it work better or worse than it does with Abby? And even if it were better, how much of that person remains? We don't know. I don't know."

Iona fell quiet, looking troubled as she gazed past Sasha. She and Abby and Aileen and Aileen's pentral had talked about it, not sitting down like this but in snippets of thought and conversation, not always aware of who was talking to who.

"We do know how hard it is for family and friends to look at someone they love and see someone else."

Iona looked at Sasha again, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes.

One of Sasha's shoulders hitched up in a slow, somewhat uncertain shrug, his brow continuing to furrow in a thoughtful scowl. 

Maybe that was naivety or foolishness or his deep seated need for this whole thing to turn out well, but it did seem obvious.  They just needed to figure out a way for Iona to occupy a body that lacked a second soul. 

"I didn't say they weren't complicated," he offered as his own version of a response.  "But, yes.  Obvious."  Maybe Carstairs and Morgenthau had already considered them and had come to the conclusion that, though obvious, such a solution was impossible.  But, maybe there were other ... less traditional ... approaches. 

Maybe in the end, they still wouldn't work.  But, right now, it felt a lot like the plan was to just throw the baby out with the bath water. 

"No.  I didn't really think about inanimate objects.  And, not just because I'd get Christina Aguilera stuck in my head each time." 

"We do know how hard it is for family and friends to look at someone they love and see someone else."

Sasha blinked and looked up from the cocoa, eyes slightly wide as he looked back at Iona.  "Yes.  That's not easy.  But, whenever I think about it, it doesn't take long to remember that I'm so very grateful to get to see her again, at all.  When I think about if-" His voice caught in his throat and he let his thoughts retreat to the problem at hand. 

In quick order, Iona pointed out the flaws in the first and more obvious potential alternative.  Sasha wasn't sure if he was ready to so quickly dismiss the ideas, but he'd always considered it a bit of a long shot.  But, he put forward his own two cents on the matter.  Partly because it was far less awkward than the other solution. 

"I mean, maybe if someone were brain dead - those freak type situations where someone ... I don't know ... froze to death.  Or electrocuted.  Or ... severe brain deformities ... something where the brain is completely non-functional but the body is intact." 

All of those situations still involved Iona's soul displacing another - regardless of how injured or close-to-death it was. 

"I mean - the other obvious approach is ..."  Sasha hesitated a moment and chewed his lip, trying to figure out how to best phrase the next thought.  "What if ... if you were ... If we found a volunteer and you possessed them at the ... at the time they conceived a child.  Maybe a healer could find a way to have you ... be the only soul that develops in the baby?  Maybe there's some sort of cultural magic or something that might work ... sort of like how muggle medicine is finding ways to shape what genes get passed on to the child.  Give you a second chance?"

"What?" She drew back, her brow furrowed. How was that obvious?

Iona had never heard of that kind of muggle medicine before, didn't have a frame of reference for it. He was talking about displacing a child's soul. No, placing Iona's soul before the child's had formed. Was that what muggles were doing these days? Did genes determine the traits and abilities and core of a person?

"Who would... volunteer for that?" She said very slowly, working it out in her head. "Who would choose not to impart their own... genes?" Iona glanced at him questioningly. "Onto their child."

She remembered him saying if someone were brain dead, if there were a freak accident. If there were no chance for the child to have a normal life, she tacked on.

Iona looked at her hands for a very long moment, her thoughts settling around Abby's silence. The room was quiet, the pets snoozing on the armchair nearby. She felt so aware of her own heart beat. She rubbed at her collarbone for a moment and dropped her hands into her lap again.

It was one thing to choose not to have the child.

It was one thing to have the child and then to give her to someone else. Someone in a position to care for her. Someone who would help her grow and become the person she was meant to be, without fear or limitations.

That was one thing. This was another. This felt like she'd be stifling something that had no sense of self yet. For her own soul. Her dead soul. She wasn't even the mother and it wasn't even her child.

She crossed her arms over her stomach, her expression many miles away. Maybe he was grasping desperately at straws. Earlier, when his eyes had widened and he'd said he was grateful to see Abby at all, she'd tensed, his words deeply unsettling her.

She'd then reasoned that if he were that desperate to save Abby, he'd simply want the pentral out, like the majority of Abby's family did. He wouldn't care where she went.

Unless...

Iona, Abby finally piped up, interrupting the paranoid direction of her thoughts. She took a breath, straightened, and looked at him directly.

"Why do you want to help me, Sasha? Because I saved her?" She paused, scarcely aware of and unable to temper the wariness in her tone. "Because it will affect her when - if I'm gone for good?"

She hadn't verbalized it before and it stuck in her throat. Gone. She didn't want to be gone. She just didn't see any feasible alternatives.