"Well..." Fred considered, determined not to be beaten so easily. She'd talked Illyria into revealing an uncertainty; Fred had asked enough questions in her lifetime to hear a true question in the process of being worked out.

But she wouldn't want someone else's soul. That was--

"Wait. You said memories." Her brain had managed to catch the important bit even as she was trying to puzzle out the question of the soul.

"What memories? My memories?"

Suddenly this was all that mattered; whether or not a soul could be perhaps artificially recreated was a question for another day.