Teresa is almost certain that if one of the criminals they chase doesn't kill him, she just might.

Sometimes words are meaningless. Sometimes they don't make things better. Sometimes what we really need, when we're suffering, is to dance.

Never show the damage. Those are the rules. But there are days when she feels weak. When the darkness seems to vast to withstand on her own. (Slight Spoilers for the Angels take Manhattan, but nothing too bad.) More of a comfort fic rather then a sad one, promise :D