As the two copies set up, Layla's eyes narrowed. Their movements were… practiced. Fluid in the way that only happened from lots and lots of repetition.

"Hey, uh…" she started worriedly. "Just how many times have you… gambled… like this?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Tell me."

"I said don't worry about it."

"I already am worrying. Are you sure this is going to work, even?"

"Totally positive. Last time this happened, we finally nailed down the technique for it and everything."

"..."

"Probably."

"…Probably?", Layla repeated in disbelief.

The copy nodded along. "Probably. Worst case is the other guy has to try next, and worst worst case is that Mr. Original here has to sit around in, well… as close to his true form as he can get right now." He flicked his own crystal for emphasis. "For like, a week."

"A week?", she repeated incredulously. "So, you're risking death and turning Henry into a magic rock for a few days… on a hunch that you have this figured out?"

"Hey, I'm on borrowed time already, and it's not turning him into a magic rock, either. We already are the rock, and the rest is just the puppet on a string that gets it from A to B. But, besides that… yes. That's pretty much the idea."

"…Between this and how much you've disregarded your own well-being up until this point… If someone doesn't start worrying for you, one of these days you're going to wind up dead for good."

The copy nodded again, agreeing with the statement but picking up the knife regardless.

"Don't tell me," he stated, cocking his head towards the slumped body of his original. "Tell him, once he gets back."

The tip of the blade drew a thin stream of blood as he angled it between the seam where skin met crystal. The other copy readied his own knife in the same spot on Henry's own severely wounded body.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Layla just couldn't figure it out. What made it so that he could just… keep going like this was only a minor setback?

Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on the stone pew, watching on nervously as they got to work.

< -|- -|- >

Well, here it is, the clone mused to himself. Finally time to face the music.

To tell the truth, seeing that time tick down slowly for the past few days had been quite the harrowing experience for him. When Henry – the original, that is – had been feeding himself into the meat grinder of traps in the tunnels, it had been more than enough to put the fear of God back into him.

After all, who wouldn't be scared after witnessing yourself die firsthand, over and over and over, only to come back to your senses, take a look at the clock, and know that in just a few days time, you'd have to pick a similar horrible end for yourself?

He'd been absolutely dreading the moment. Up until the point a few minutes ago when he realized he had an easy way out. If he was going to die, at least this way he could choose to do it on his terms.

Though, technically speaking, I won't be dead for another two hours. Just stuck in limbo for a bit, until I fade out. But, at least this way, it'll happen peacefully…

No point in delaying any further, then. It was time to go.

He felt a slight twinge as the blade tip pressed into the skin just beneath the outcrop of crystal in his chest. Signaling to his other self to begin, he cupped one hand over the top of it while stabbing and prying up from below, grimacing in pain as the knife worked the physical manifestation of his soul free from his body.

Almost made him want to laugh, actually. You'd think after all the crazy feats and the mountain of his own shortcomings he'd had to climb over just to get by, that he'd have long since gone numb to the feeling. But, there it was, same as he'd always felt it. Pain.

Perhaps all that had changed was his reaction to it. It was easy to feel detached when you were unsure of how real you actually were. What did a little pain matter if you might just be a cheap imitation of someone else? Riding the coattails of someone else's memories, hopes, dreams, all of it- was Henry Thompson still the one who was feeling it?

Were any of them still 'Henry', at this point?

The crystals started flashing brighter and more rapidly as they finally separated from their respective cavities. A high pitched squealing sound, somewhere between a hot tea kettle and the sound of tinnitus slowly built up as the glow inside began to shift from a cool blue to a bright, sickly green. The donor copy felt the feeling in his hands, feet, face and body slowly fade away as the sounds and sights of the world around him quickly grew dark, until the only thing he could sense was the own pulsing of his soul against the crystalline walls of its cage.

He was close to the point of no return, now.

If he stayed in this state for too long, he would end up trapped here until his death. A lost soul, stuck between four walls, no walls, infinitely many walls – it felt a little different each time he checked, but he would always be trapped regardless. The body that came with the copy was the crystals primary means of interacting with the world around it, and if that connection was lost… it was close to impossible to restore.

Close to impossible. Not completely impossible, however, if the right circumstances were met. Because, even though he'd been rendered to mere… soul-stuff… He wasn't completely without options.

In the darkness, he felt a kindred spirit reaching out for signs of life. Henry. The one that would take his place. He answered, guiding his soul into his old form spiritually as the remaining active copy did so physically. A long, laborious process only possible in the most roundabout fashion, to his knowledge.

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It was times like these where he was truly grateful that each of them were practically identical. Words weren't needed when gut instincts and intuition led to the same place between the both of them. It wasn't exactly like reading his own mind, but it was a comprehensive understanding that only came from long periods of time attempting to understand yourself. Not perfect, but more than enough.

Nerve by nerve, connection by connection, he helped his predecessor integrate into his old body. Had he still been able to see in the traditional sense, he had no doubt that the crystal was being put exactly into place the way his own had been removed. Glued, stapled, and reattached like some sort of Frankenstein's monster to be-

Actually, pretending to be Frankenstein might be a funny bit, if he could get them in on it. Shame that he couldn't communicate words to his other self, just feelings and the occasional vividly remembered sensation.

Maybe some other time. As Henry got properly settled in, their own connection was growing weaker and weaker. Once the crystal recognized the body as its own, he would once again find himself alone in the darkness.

Using the precious few remaining moments of time, he ensured that everything was spiritually secure from his end, before he at long last breathed a proverbial sigh of relief. For the first time in a long while, he was well and truly alone.

It was as exciting as it was frightening, but he was determined to enjoy it for as long as he had.

< -|- -|- >

Henry opened his eyes, reveling for a moment in the simple fact that he once again had a functional pair to see with at all. Gone was the labored breathing from choking on his own blood, the horrible sense of slowness that came with being unable to string coherent thoughts together, and the sense of drowsiness that came with. In its place was the sweet smell of petrichor, a sense of feeling more well-rested than he had been in months, and a sense of mental alacrity that made him feel like he could get anything done.

He sat up, realizing that he was now shirtless and that he was holding a second crystal practically identical to his own in his hand. While part of him had expected this outcome, it still took a moment for his mind to properly process being transplanted from one body into another.

"This is the second time this has weirded me out…" he muttered to no one in particular. "Not that I've done this successfully more than twice…"

"Henry?"

Startled, his eyes shot up and to the right, not realizing that Layla had been right there during the whole process. Now that he was paying closer attention to his surroundings, he also noticed his copy packing away a kit of medical supplies, with the Harpy looming ominously in the background in some sort of standby mode.

"Henry, are you alright?!", Layla repeated nervously.

"Alright?"

He gave himself a good once-over, noting that he was – at long last – no longer zip-tied and that his forearm was once again unblemished. His current physical condition was otherwise downright impeccable by his standards. Well, in the sense that he wasn't covered head to toe in injuries.

A bodybuilder, he was not. Best he could argue was 'skinny fit'.

"Compared to how I was a moment ago, I feel fantastiiiigh…"

He tried to stand up, but apparently he had tried to move too fast. The crystal in his chest flickered worryingly, now sporting an equally troubling shade of green rather than its regular blue hue.

Layla gasped slightly as he fell back into his seat. Before she could rush in to fuss over him more than she already must have, though, he held up a hand to signal her to wait.

"Okay, still need a bit to get my legs beneath me… but other than that, I'm alright."

"Henry, I don't believe that for a second. I have no idea what you just did, but whatever it was you're still clearly in a bad way!"

"What, this? This is nothing! Just working through the last few hiccups of reconnecting my soul to my everything else, is all…"

"It's not nothing, you just nearly collapsed and that crystal of yours is still flashing green."

"That'll pass. At least, it did last time. And nothing seems out of place in comparison right now, so…"

She sighed, pinching her nose bridge as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Why do you do this to yourself…", she bemoaned with frustration. He just shrugged.

"Ugh… So, how long until this is done and over with, then?", she finally asked.

"Until I can walk again? About ten minutes, I think. Until I'm completely back to normal? Probably a full day."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'back to normal'? Isn't it just the walking that's the problem right now?"

"Well, that's most of it. But until this thing decides to get settled in properly-" he said, pointing towards the crystal. "- I'm afraid I'll be stuck at baseline for a bit. No Domain magic, no copies."

Layla gave him a confused look. "Wait… that's it? It's just a matter of not having access to your magic?"

"Well… yeah," he replied. "What, something wrong with what I said?"

"No, not really… I was just expecting there to be something much worse than that, was all. Like, I don't know… mana poisoning or cancer or something…"

"What, you're saying a hard reset wouldn't upset you any, either? This is a big deal for me! I have to actually be careful now!"

She gave him a funny look, before cracking up a bit and snickering at his response.

"Your priorities are truly a sight to behold…" she said with a half smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

That got an even bigger laugh out of her.

"Nothing, nothing… but, now that everything looks like it'll be okay… now what?"

Oh, right! We've still got a mission to complete, don't we?

Henry realized he'd been so busy reorienting himself, that he'd lost track of the majority of his surroundings.

First thing he noticed was the items strewn about at the base of the pew. Taking note of his familiar shirt and tie, he decided the first thing he wanted to do was make himself a bit more presentable than he was now.

Setting the second crystal aside for now, he put his arm through the considerably more fresh dress shirt of his former duplicate, buttoning it shut and making sure the crystal fit comfortably through the front. Felt good to be looking fresh again. Or, well… fresher. This one was still pretty distressed.

That left both the artifact, and… his revolver?

"Hey, where'd these come from? And where's Gordon? I would've thought he'd be holding onto these."

Henry looked to Layla for answers. Only to find her staring down at the floor with an embarrassed look on her face.

"W-well…" she stammered, drawing a shaky breath for a reason unknown to him currently. "I might have… gotten ahead of myself and, uh… hit him really hard."

Henry blinked. "You… hit him really hard," he reiterated.

"In the chest. Into the pit. While cycling my magic."

It wasn't often that something put him at a loss for words. This actually, legitimately came as a surprise to him. Despite generally accepting the need to expect the unexpected, this had completely caught him off guard.

"Well, shit…" he said with a slight sense of awe in his voice. "Guess I'm not the only crazy one around here."

"Wh-!? I'm not crazy, okay!?", she protested. "I was just… I was really mad at what he did to you back down there, and… well, I wasn't thinking and punched him back down to make sure he died. Happy?"

"Awww… You do still care…"

Layla spluttered again, before giving him a light smack upside the head as chastisement. Her heart wasn't really behind the swing, though, and as he chuckled a bit at her discomfort, it wasn't long before she joined in on the quiet laughter, too.

When the moment of levity passed, Henry once again put his mind towards figuring out the best way forward from this point. There was bound to be some sort of ramifications for this turn of events… but at the same time he didn't blame Layla for going off the script on this one.

Had their roles been reversed, he would have likely been a lot less forgiving.

"Well, if you killed Gordon, all we can do is adapt the timetable, I guess. At least now, we've got a few extra options at our disposal. Can you do me a favor and pass this along to the Harpy?"

He picked the spare crystal back up, handing it over to her as he gathered the loose items on the floor together.

"Finally, we're not just bullying ourselves," Layla said with relief. "I have no idea how you thought playing along would work out in the long run, but I for one am glad we're not doing it anymore."

"Oh, we still are, for now," he countered. "It's just that now we have everyone on board with the plan, rather than us having to pretend to go along even when no one else is looking."

"Does it really count if none of us are tied up and we plan on beating Guillaume up the second we get the chance?"

"...Guess not."

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