Standing on the edge of a chasm, looking down into mist covered depths, Aimee remembered her second and final conversation with a burabi mage called Jack. "But why not?" he had asked, smiling at her anger. "Thereís no bottom to it. Youíd be free falling forever. Like flying. It just takes a moment to get used to."

"And if there is, Iíll never know what hit me, right?" sheíd replied. Jack had only shrugged and laughed.

The fog moved sluggishly, moved by unfelt wind and Aimee just stood there. Sometimes looking down, sometimes across to the opposite side of the canyon. That opposite edge was so far away that it was almost invisible, perhaps only imagined.

Aimee awoke and sat up slowly, the sweat on her face nothing to do with the stuffy overheated room. She had been dreaming again, the same dream sheíd had every night since she left Denver.

Aimee slowly stepped out of bed and began to dress. As usual, sleep could be forgotten for the rest of the night. She was somewhat relieved that the dream had arrived so late, it was nearly 6am. She could just consider it an early awakening. A deep breath and recitation of a rote calmed her, and she walked down towards the kitchen, trying to think about her situation.

At least I didnít jump that time, Aimee consoled herself. Sometimes she stepped off the edge, and sometimes she didnít, and both endings left her worried and irritable. Both were unsatisfying and frightening.

She set some coffee to brewing and sighed. This city doesnít help much, nor this situation. If the Garou donít kill me for dealing with the Sabbat, the mages might kill me for being involved with either of them. Of course, thatís assuming I donít go out in a blaze of fury over that arrogant Hermetic first.

She shrugged and looked down at the crumb covered table. Sender had left half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich there and Aimee sighed and threw it out before the ants found it. My temperís getting worse. she admitted. I feel like a Garou who canít rage and whatís that going to lead to? Will I explode again, or will I just dry up and become even colder? She sighed. No answer came to her. Worse yet, she sometimes thought that coldness would be better than the alternative and the pain that made her vulnerable to. But she was also aware of what she risked losing if she walked away - or took another step towards the canyonís edge.

The Euthanatos are about life, the correction and balance of life, she reminded herself. Of course, I havenít been a great example of it, myself, but I do what I can. And part of living is about feeling, caring, hurting, even anger. Everything must be kept in balance. Coldness is not a kind of balance, itís a retreat, and inhumane at that.

She cracked some eggs into a frying pan and paused for a moment. What am I cooking for these people? Iím not den mommy for them like I was at the last chantry. These mages are adults and can feed themselves. She thought back to Denver. I wonder if the kids even remember me. That is, those that are still alive.

The eggs sizzled and popped as an involuntary tear fell upon them. She smiled wanly. I guess I can still feel something.

What am I looking for? She felt frustrated. A new cabal? Direction, oblivion, what? Oh, hell, Iíd settle for all those outstanding warrants disappearing. She laughed quietly. I bet even the great Scott Free couldnít do that. Damn, the eggs are burning...

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