"I'm not sure we've really chosen anything." Fred says, quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed to stop herself from the distracted sort of pacing she wants to do.

"We've just sort of... accepted. Whatever this is. Whatever we were, whatever we thought we were supposed to be. And that would have been fine, except..." she pauses, shakes her head.

"Something changed. Something in between the time that I walked into my supply closet one day and never came back out. Sometime in between there were all these words that don't even mean anything. And I guess somewhere in there is a problem."