[There's a flash of real, genuine anger and hurt at that question, and she immediately protests:] For you! Do you really think that I...

[Her gaze shifts down, and she admits, softly:] I know that...those memories are important. I know that now. But if...when I leave, I won't even remember you. [Her hand sweeps out in a quick, snapping gesture.] I won't remember any of this. Everything will slip away, just like it did before. And if another me shows up, she won't know you. Do you really want to be burdened with that?