A Woman Like Me...

The Next Chapter

     Several months later, everything had begun to return to normal.  Fortunately, Sheila had survived her injuries, saving Trace the guilt over having killed his own mother.  She was living under strict house arrest in a basement apartment that Edward built for her underneath their mansion.  She would live out the rest of her days there.

     Luckily, she did not have to worry about growing too lonely as she had been given a roommate to share out her sentence, Portia.  Sheila had been so desperate to turn Portia into her daughter-in-law, well, now she would be given the opportunity to know what life would be like with her.  So far, she did not seem to be enjoying it, often asking to have Portia removed from the cell; claiming Portia's presence as cruel and unusual punishment.

     No one obliged.

     Portia would be given an hour-long visitation with Allegra every six months at Trace and I's discretion.  Until, such time, that Allegra became old enough to make the decision to see her mother, either, more or less.  Trace and I would not sway her either way; this decision would be hers and hers alone.  We would not hide what Portia had done, but we would not force Allegra to hate her for it either.

     I had healed from my own injuries fairly quickly.  I had taken a short break from work and spent a lot of time with Trace and Allegra.  I needed some space to clear my head before returning to work.  With my parent's killer finally gone, I was not eager to kill again.  I had enough blood on my hands to last a lifetime.  I had been having difficulty trying to explain this to Trace as I did not wish him to be disappointed in me.

     Though, to my great relief, when I finally admitted to him that I was done with the violence, he did not even bat an eye.  I think that he was, ultimately, happy to hear that I was finally done putting myself into harm's way.  Since then, I have done a lot more "out-of-field" activities; I was leading a lot of the training exercises and learning to help Jay with the paperwork.  Trace was beginning to bring me on his meetings, granting me a more diplomatic role within the Family.

     Trace had even offered to train me in some of the more legal aspects of the business, stating that I could transfer to that side of the organization, if I wished.  But my career was all that I had ever known, dangerous and illegal as it was, I was not ready to leave it behind entirely.  I still wished to go on the occasional, non-violent, missions.  I was not going to become some washed-up woman that no one had a use for like Sheila had accused me of so many times.  I would prove my usefulness in every way possible, even if killing was no longer on the table.

     However, despite my inclinations to not appear useless, I had taken ill over the last week or so.  I had spent all morning, every morning with my head in the toilet.  I did not have the energy that I usually had for sparing, so I had to make the trainees spar each other.  I had even declined the couple of missions that the Optics sent my way for fear that I was not up to my usual standards.  I was not certain what was wrong with me, but I was determined to push through it, as I always had.

     I had been successfully hiding my illness from everyone else, though, I am certain that they noticed my obvious fatigue.  Otherwise, I acted as if everything was right as rain.  That morning, I was on my knees in front of the toilet, as I had been every morning after Trace left for his workout.  I was too caught up in my discomfort that I had not noticed someone entering the bedroom.

     "Mercy?"

     I heard a voice calling from within the room.  It was Jay.  I wanted to respond to him, to tell him not to come into the bathroom and witness this ghastly sight.  Unfortunately, I was hit with another bought of nausea the moment that I opened my mouth.  My head dove back into the toilet just in time.