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cause.
    "Do you think he could have stopped me for long?"  My voice was still hoarse, but some of its strength and volume had returned.  My eyes were locked on Rachel as I felt Quentin's shoulders shrug slightly.
    "She's right you know, Ms. Choi."
    There was a long pause as Rachel's eyes flitted between the two of us.  She was sitting behind an old oak desk, various open files littering a map of the city that covered most of the desktop.  The look of mild annoyance faded and she let out a long sigh.  Much like Duane, stress lines had cut deep into her face since the last time I had seen her.
    "You're both right."  She rubbed her temples.  "Well, help Irene into a seat and check in with Duane. It looks like we have some trouble brewing and we need you out there."
    "Maybe I should stay here?"  It was a battered office desk chair Quentin helped me into.  It matched everything else I had encountered so far here, old but serviceable.
    "No, Quentin," I said before Rachel could say a word.  "Even if they didn't need you, this is private."  Rachel gave me a hard look, then nodded in agreement.
    "Irene is correct, Quentin.  Thank you."
    Casting a glance at both of us, Quentin nodded and, without another word, turned and strode out of the room.  The door closing behind him was the only sound in the room save for some uncomfortable shifting.  That pall of silence reigned for a good minute or two before Rachel broke it.
    "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you, Irene."  The regret was almost tangible as she looked down at the map and the scattered papers.  "I ... well, you can probably guess how busy we are, trying to stymie -"
    "I don't want an apology about that.  I understand that."  I had a coal of anger that I was fanning, using that fire to keep moving and talking.  "What I don't understand is why.  Why is all of this going on when it could have been stopped?"
    "What are you talking about?"  The Korean-American detective looked up, vaguely confused.  "Look, we had an operation under way to get you out of there.  We just had to be -"
    "No, not that.  Before, when I had Eric on his knees and you told me to give up."  My hands were clutching the threadbare armrests.  "I had him beat; I could have kept going!"
    "That's crazy, Irene."  Rachel, as always, kept a cool head.  "Maybe you could have taken all of those Crusaders, but probably not.  True, you might have killed Epic ... that might have cowed them ... but could you have actually done that?"
    "No, but-"  I closed my eyes and tried to order my thoughts.  Everything was still so jumbled.  "Dammit, there had to be another way!"
    Rachel let out a bitter sigh.  No, not bitter ... old.  She was perhaps my age, no more than forty, but all of this that we had been forced into with the Whiteout had aged both of us far beyond our actual years.
    "Maybe," she said, voice barely above a whisper.  "I've spent a lot of time in the past two weeks questioning my decision, that's for sure."  Her voice was regaining its strength.  "I'm not happy with how it went down but I don't think you or any of the others would have lived if I had made any other choice."
    "I'm not sure if you can call what happened to everyone else living."  It hurt me to think about what else the Crusaders were making my friends do.  "What about Archer?  Alma?  Mind's Eye?  I didn't see them at the prison.  Where are they?"
    "I have suspicions."  Rachel looked me in the eye.  "Irene, you have to understand that nothing is the same now.  We have very few allies and even fewer resources left.  No matter how badly you beat Eric, there's a thousand more Pushed under his command and Atlanta is theirs."
    "Don't tell me you're giving up!"  My shout was more of a croak, but it was loud enough to get my point across.  "Why did you even call in these folks?  Which, I have to add, you never told me about.  You know, like you didn't tell me you were bringing Alma into this mess in the first