Answer Me, a misc. tv shows fanfic

a n s w e r
ME

Dedication: To Kendra, Aly, and Nata, in remembrance of our Twitter conversations. Kendra, I only hope you never actually have to bail us out of jail.

Second Dedication: Solely for Aly, whose grandmother went into the hospital as I finished writing this. I know exactly how you feel, sweets. Just keep holding on. :)

She's quiet for once and that's what scares him. She's never, ever quiet if she can help it because she hates the silence almost as much as Stella hates polka-dots with stripes, almost as much as Kevin hates leaving the zoo, and maybe even more than Joe hates Van Dyke (and that's saying something). And as rarely as she's quiet, it's an even rarer occasion that she's quiet around him. Yes, she's mellowed, and yes, they're friends, but she's always got something to say. That's just the way she is and that's why he—

Her question to him is quiet and unexpected and that scares him even more than her silence. She's never serious and always predictable. Although her words may be random or crazy, somehow he's never surprised to hear them coming from her mouth. She's like his brothers in that way, and it always gives him a warm, comfortable feeling. So when the question comes, mumbled in a tone so low that he barely catches it, he wonders whether he should just let it fall, unheard and unanswered to the ground, where it could shatter uselessly and not turn his world upside-down.

Because, more than her silence and more than her question, his answer is what scares him the most. No matter what, he's always been able to think things through and come up with the hows and whys in a logical, precise manner. While his plans often fail (he blames those three points that yet evade him), he's still got a plan and an explanation as to what went wrong. Now, he doesn't know if things have gone wrong or right, and there are very few hows and lots of whys and he's not sure when and where it all started. It's all a confusing, chaotic mess and he doesn't even have a plan because he only just figured it all out right now, standing next to her in this awkward silence.

And so all he knows is that he's very scared and she's very quiet and that there's a question hanging in the air and neither of them will be satisfied until he answers.

Their first meeting all those months ago hadn't quite been what he'd expected. Of course, Stella had warned them all in advance about what might happen. Be wary of the sports equipment, steer clear if she's wearing cleats. When she goes into JONAS Super Fan mode, Stella had warned, she can get a little… clumsy. She planned on introducing everyone during lunch (actually, she wanted to do it before school, but Joe was a habitually late riser), but no-one seemed to remember that Macy was, in fact, a year younger than Stella.

So he was surprised and a little scared when he saw that she was sitting in the assigned seat directly behind his in the first class of the day, recognizing her from the photos he'd seen the last time he was over at Stella's. He didn't panic, but he did notice that his heart beat slightly faster than normal and there was a dribble of sweat running down the back of his neck. But he played it cool, sauntered up to his desk, and faced forward, determined not to turn around and simply waiting for the shrieks to begin.

But here's the thing: they never came. Not during that whole first hour (although he did hear a tiny gasp behind him when the role was called), or even during the second period when they shared a math class. By the time he made it to his fourth hour biology class (she hadn't been in his elective), he was starting to get concerned. Was there no one in their grade with a last name between Lucas and Misa? This time he turned in his seat, waiting for her to enter the room and sit in the desk behind his.

When she did, his heart seemed to stop. Of course he'd seen pictures and he'd gotten a good view of the back of her head and part of her profile as he passed, but he'd never really seen her up close and personal. Taken separately, her features weren't much. Almond-shaped eyes, pouty lips, and a button of a nose. One certainly never expected to see them put together on the same face; and yet there they were, made all the prettier by the fact that she was laughing at something a friend had said. Her brown eyes never lost their warmth, although they certainly did widen when she realized she was being watched. A pretty blush spread across her cheeks and her smile nearly disappeared.

"Hey," he said when she finally sat down behind him, slinging her bag gently to the ground. He held out his hand for lack of other ideas. "You're Macy Misa, right? Stella's friend?"

She nodded, presumably unable to speak, and looked at his hand for a few seconds before it finally dawned on her what it was there for. With another blush, she slipped her little hand into his and watched as it disappeared. He gave her hand a firm but gentle shake and held it just a moment too long before letting go, all the while watching her face. Her eyes didn't leave his for a moment and he could tell the exact second that it hit her—this was actually happening. Her face broke out into the widest grin he'd ever seen and this song, this wonderful song, started pounding in his ears and the only thing he could think was, Adorable.

During the lunch hour, he was aware of Stella's eyes on him, sharp and alert. He didn't want to think about why she would be watching him like a hawk, because the last thing on his mind was asking out JONAS's Number One Super Fan. The girl was sweet and absolutely adorable, but there was no way he was going to date someone who could best him at baseball (and according to Stella, she could).

Of course, when the girl also managed to whack him in the temple with a lacrosse stick later that day, his decision was solidified. There was no way on Earth it would be safe to go near her, let alone date her.

If he was really honest with himself, he knew that Penny wasn't the best person in the world to pursue. The girl was known for her ferocious desire to break into the music industry and he really should have turned and ran when she told him that she wasn't all that fond of Stevie Wonder or Johnny Cash. But he stuck around because she had an amazing voice and warm brown eyes and this fantastic smile that kind of reminded him of a melody he'd heard once but could never quite remember.

He tried to capture the melody, but all he could hear when he sat down at his desk was old songs re-imagined with her name. And that was all that poured out of his pen, no matter how long or how hard he tried. He felt like a broken record and he didn't understand what had gone wrong. She made his heart sing (kind-of-sort-of), but he couldn't seem to get out a song.

And then it hit him—BAM!—like a lacrosse stick to the temple. It was so simple, so perfect and he raced to get to his guitar before it ran out of his mind. And it didn't strike him once that the source of his inspiration was a voice on a breeze, breathlessly discussing Stell-cro with his brothers and stylist downstairs.

Of course, the fact that Penny had a boyfriend stung. It dawned on him then that she couldn't be very smart if she missed that he'd been flirting with her in a major way. But the boyfriend bit didn't sting as much as the eventual let-down—when he realized just how much time and effort he'd wasted on someone who wasn't and would never be worth it—because as much as they both pretended that she was over Jimmy and into him, she just… wasn't.

He resolved never to let a pretty voice fool him into falling in love again.

And then there was Maria; she smelled pretty and she had those big, brown eyes, but that wasn't really what captured his attention. Her smile, wide and inviting, drew him in. She didn't claim to be musical and that was a bonus, because hadn't he sworn off musical girls anyway? But what really got him, what really made him wild, was her incredible brown hair. It was shiny and (looked) so soft that he could barely resist the urge to touch it every time she showed up at the door.

She tended to ramble on if they let her, but that was okay, because it gave him a chance to stare at the way her hair stirred in the wind and watch as her mouth moved. And yet, it didn't strike him until his brothers suggested it that he should ask her out. Somehow, his admiration didn't move in that direction until it turned into a competition. It didn't surprise him or his brothers that he was the most willing to let her go.

It really scared him when he realized that a large part of his interest in the pizza girl had to do with her similarities to her—so out of some kind of defense mechanism, his body managed to repress those thoughts and he continued on.

When Kevin told them that Macy was going to sing for their album, he didn't know what to think. A part of him was apprehensive—how could he not be, when the girl presented such a hazard to his health? And that was just at school; Lord knew what would happen when she got to the fire house. But at the same time, his gut was twisting with more than apprehension—it was something closer to disappointment.

Because he'd thought that Macy was different. After all, she'd been so kind when they were trapped in her mother's thrift store and she had never claimed to have musical talent before now. But, he supposed, she was just like (Penny) all the others.

He managed to hide his disappointment pretty well, he thought. But he knew that if any of his friends looked closely, they would see past the façade and recognize how strained he was—how red his cheeks were, how tight and rigid his face became, how he smiled with false cheer and proclaimed his optimism—for him, they all read 'upset.' But what would Nick Lucas have to be upset about? They were recording on time with a girl who claimed to be a good singer.

But he was upset and what was even more upsetting than that was that he was actually relieved to find out that she was horrible.

He intended to just blurt it out when he interrupted his brother. Kevin was just taking too long, being too nice about this. It was Macy Misa. Sure, she was a walking disaster. And sure, she also crushed the boy's foot the other day. And, yeah, she was sweet and adorable and tiny. It wasn't like she'd get mad at them. They were her idols, JONAS.

But the moment he looked into those wide, innocent brown eyes, he knew that he couldn't do this. They were JONAS, the band she practically worshipped. And she was Macy, the most incredible fan he'd ever met. He just couldn't blurt out the truth and take that innocence away from her. He couldn't be the person to take away the stars that were shining in her eyes.

He had to look away, at anything but her face, before he could continue. Those eyes had thrown some kind of spell over him, one that he needed to shake off before it took permanent hold. "Are you still singing back-up for us tonight?"

Joe was making large motions behind the girl's back, incredulous and terrified. But all Nick could see was the girl's face, transformed with happiness and shining like the sun on a clear day.

"Yeah, totally!" she said, smiling a wide, open-mouthed grin that set his heart to pounding. A song that had been buried deep in his memory resurfaced, but he had to ignore it.

"Cool, we'll see you there," he said, smiling himself as she walked away, overcome by her excitement.

As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about killing the stars in her eyes. They were still there, but they shone with sadness and betrayal rather than happiness and admiration. The memory ate away at his senses and he turned over in his bed, trying to find a cool spot among the sheets that would sooth his burning skin.

That also didn't make sense to him. He had just crushed a girl's spirit, shattered her dreams of singing, betrayed her unwavering trust, and when he expected that he would feel cold and empty and lifeless, he was burning with heat and as restless in body as in mind. He couldn't keep still and he felt the strangest need to talk. To someone. Anyone.

He got out of bed and took the stairs down, rather than wake his brothers sliding down the fire pole. He blinked in surprise when light met his eyes. Another body moved around the kitchen, getting out a couple of mugs and tending a pan on the stove. As he got closer, Nick recognized his mother's red hair, a stark contrast to her white robe.

"Mom?" he mumbled, just loud enough to get her attention. She turned and smiled when she saw him.

"Oh, good. I heard you rustling around in there—I knew it was only a matter of time before you came down," she stirred the pot on the stove and Nick was now able to smell what it was. "I'm nearly finished making the hot chocolate. Why don't you sit down?"

Nick did as she asked, leaning his arms against the cool countertop. He stared for Lord knew how long at the patterns in the granite surface, trying to figure out how to put what he was feeling to words. He just… he couldn't. At least, not yet. The words were there, lurking just out of sight. He knew they were coming, they always did eventually, but he hoped it would be either now or much later (much, much later—as in, when they were forgiven and Macy would be open to hearing about his feelings on this subject).

A mug of steaming hot chocolate was placed directly under his nose and as he inhaled the scent, words formed. They weren't the words, the ones he needed if he was ever going to be forgiven, but they were a start.

"I really screwed up."

"I know," his mother said, taking a tentative sip out of her mug. He did the same, grimacing when the heat scalded him, but relishing the flavor and the warmth that traveled down his throat nonetheless.

"I mean… I really screwed up," he murmured, staring down into the chocolate. It wasn't made from a mix and its dark, rich color immediately reminded him of Macy's eyes that afternoon. So dark and liquid and betrayed… shining with tears that began to fall just as she turned away. "I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but… I just… I guess I was trying to protect her."

"Protect her from what, honey?" The woman reached for his hand and squeezed it, a reassuring gesture that didn't do much to reassure him at all. "The truth? She was going to find out eventually."

"I know," Nick said with a scowl. "I didn't want it to be me, I guess. I didn't want to be the one to steal the stars from her eyes." The words sounded strange, spoken aloud and to his mother, of all people, but it didn't stop him. "You should have seen her, Mom. Everything about her was shining. Her skin, her mouth, her hair—everything. And her eyes… I didn't steal the stars. I didn't kill them, either. I just… changed them. Forever."

"Not forever," Sandy crooned, now wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He wondered why she was acting this way until he reached up to scratch his nose and found that his face was wet. "She'll forgive you boys—all of you. But these things can take time, even after the hard part's over. But now she won't think of you as this perfect guy anymore. She'll know that you're human."

That wasn't much comfort, but it did give him hope. Maybe, if she didn't think he was so perfect, they could actually be… friends.

To make a long story short, he apologized and she forgave him, but he still wasn't satisfied. Although Kevin had been more than willing to put the whole incident behind him, Nick was not so easily deterred. He begged Macy to let him make it up to her. Finally, she caved.

"You want to earn my forgiveness?" she asked, smirking a little when he nodded eagerly. "Come to my next volleyball match."

He agreed on the spot and made sure to clear his entire day so that there would be no distractions. Every day, he reminded her of the upcoming game, watching as her eyes lit up with triumph and a small, closed-lipped smile took over her face. It was nowhere near as pretty, he decided, as her other, less controlled expressions. Like when she had lit up her mother's thrift store with her blazing intensity. Or, he thought guiltily, her smile when she'd confirmed for the last time that she would record for their album. But it was enough.

When the day of the match arrived, Stella insisted that he wear a protective chest pad underneath his shirt. He would have refused, had the girl not also threatened to make him wear a helmet. The pad was lightweight and thin, just thin enough to be concealed by the folds of his shirt, but also thick enough to protect him if he were hit by, say, a volleyball. He still resented it, because it had been three weeks since the last time Macy had hurt him. Well, physically.

He chose to sit about midway up the bleachers, on the very end in case he needed a quick escape. He managed to wave to Macy and get a quick wave back before the match began and he was just starting to wonder why his heart heaved in his chest like it did when he noticed that the Macy on the court was radically different from the Macy he knew.

This Macy's face was hard and soft at the same time—soft in that her smooth, tanned face still displayed the baby-round chin and adorable pouty lips, but it was also hard in its expression, hard in the way her eyes were bright with determination, hard in the way her mouth was set in an almost grim line. There was a certain amount of ferocity in her face and it left him in awe, especially after he saw the wild expression and the way her mouth opened in what looked scarily like anger as she spiked the ball for the first time.

This Macy moved with a grace that he didn't recognize. She was crouched low to the ground, as were all of her teammates, like a jungle cat ready to pounce on its prey. The pads on her knees did not disturb her as they obviously did the younger members of the opposing team and she did not hesitate to throw herself to the floor to keep the ball from dropping. Although she was trying to be a team player, it was clear that she outshone all of the other players on the court.

Nick knew, suddenly, why she'd asked him to come to one of her games. If she had really been angry, they would have known. And she would have made certain they had earned her forgiveness before she doled it out.

When the game was over, he waited on the home side of the court for her to finish congratulating her teammates and offering words of encouragement to the rival school. When she saw him, her eyes lit up and she smiled a wide, uninhibited grin. And there was that song again—he was starting to recognize the melody that his heart pounded out every time she smiled.

"You were amazing, Mace," he told her, watching in fascination as she blushed. "And I get why you asked me to come."

She smiled even wider and gently punched his shoulder. "You were forgiven before you even apologized. I heard what you guys said about not wanting to hurt my feelings. I just…" She shrugged.

Nick smiled a little before he stepped forward and pulled the girl into a hug. "I promise that I will never, ever try to trick you again," he murmured, feeling her arms hesitantly wind around his waist.

She just squeezed him back, nodding against his chest. Then, after a moment, she prodded at him with her finger. "Are you wearing a chest pad?"

Sometimes it felt as though they'd slipped into an alternate universe of sorts—one where she was more of a friend than a fan and somehow everything else had changed because of that. At one time, Stella may have bet Macy that she couldn't go without talking about JONAS. Now, it was a bet about how long she could manage without Diet Coke to keep her going, and in return Stella would have to give up texting.

She stumbled into the firehouse one morning, looking haggard and beautiful all at once. Nick immediately set his guitar down so that he could kill whatever had managed to chew her up and spit her back out. Or, failing that, at least help her clean up a bit.

"Threw out all of the Diet Coke at my house," she explained shortly. "I need it. Like, NOW."

Nick chuckled lightly to himself and led her over to the kitchen island. She sat herself in the very same seat he'd been in weeks before as he tried to figure out how to apologize for lying to her and crushing her dreams. A momentary picture of her face that afternoon entered his mind, but he pushed it away and instead tried to figure out why he was hearing that song pounding in his ears again. He poured the girl a cup of straight black coffee and set it in front of her.

"I know you don't want to lose your bet," Nick told her gently. "And this will perk you up even more than the Diet Coke would."

"Good!" Macy took a tentative sip of the coffee, wary of the heat, and sighed. "You wouldn't believe the caffeine headaches I've been getting. Almost enough to blind me. At least I know that Stella's taking this worse than I am. She'll probably crack by tomorrow afternoon."

"Joe and Kevin have a bet on tonight," Nick said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was bitter, but it didn't really bother him too much. What he couldn't figure was that sweet little Macy didn't even grimace at the taste of her own coffee (he had to add a couple spoons of sugar to his before it was tolerable).

Macy snorted and took a long drag from her cup. "How long did they think I'd be able to go without?"

"Oh, they already lost that bet. They said three hours," Nick told her, smiling a little.

"What did you say?"

"I told them you'd manage for however long it took to win." He laughed when she rolled her eyes. "You're so damn competitive that you got into an argument with me over which of us was more competitive. Get used to it. I'm never underestimating you again."

"Maybe you should," Macy said quietly, staring down into her mug. "That way, you'll never be disappointed."

Somehow, her quiet little comment had changed the conversation entirely. He reached out and put a hand on her arm. "You could never disappoint me, Mace."

10.

At one time, he may have thought nothing of Randolph asking her out. Although, truthfully, he didn't really see anything wrong with it (except that the boy was a total nerd and he ate around the beans in his chili). And, if he and Macy hadn't become such good friends and he didn't know the truth behind Randolph's little makeover, he might have once been freaked out by it. Now he just found it funny.

"When do you think he'll realize that I'm not interested?" Macy hissed, giving Randolph a big fake smile as he strutted by. Nick could barely disguise his laughter as a cough upon seeing the 'hat' that the boy was proudly showing off to his friends.

When Randolph finally left (probably to go to Chess Club), Nick was able to answer her. "Why did you agree to go to the game with him in the first place?" he asked. He leaned against the lockers as Macy pulled a bright pink composition notebook out of her own. "And why are you using that horrifyingly pink notebook?"

"This?" She snickered when Nick flinched as she held it up to the light. "I got it for Stella so that she wouldn't have an excuse to lose her journal for English anymore."

"Oh. And the date?"

Macy sighed and shut her locker. "Stella was being an idiot about Joe again. And when I tried to talk to her, she just reminded me that I don't have a boyfriend either." She wrinkled her nose. "I can't help it if you three spoil me."

"Spoil you?" Nick laughed. "How do we spoil you?"

"Because all three of you treat me like I'm something special. You tell me that I'm pretty and you take me out to lunch on a school day when I fail a test and you say goodbye like you can't wait to say hello again," she said. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "You all treat me so much better than any boyfriend I've ever had and now the next guy I date is going to have to top it. And I don't think that's possible."

"Of course it's not!" Nick said with a scoff. "No boy is ever going to be good enough for our Macy!"

"Good God, stop it! You sound like my dad."

11.

Although Nick would never, ever admit it under pain of death, he was secretly very pleased when he saw Randolph hand back the clothes and the 'hat' and the Book of Nick (which he and Macy had made together with many laughs and jokes as they sprayed perfume on some pages and tossed glitter at others). He didn't like Blondie hanging around Macy (after all, he was a total nerd and he ate around the beans in his chili). He was a bad influence.

But everything came to a screeching halt when he overheard a little discussion between Macy and Stella on his way to the music room (because that blasted song was running through his head with more and more frequency and he wanted to see if he could finally get it written down).

"Wait, so you asked him on a real date?"

Nick's blood stopped cold and he came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway. What?

Macy winced and leaned against the lockers. "I just felt so bad about scaring off a perfectly nice guy… He was really sweet to put up with the Nick clothes and the Nick 'hat' and the book. So I told him that I made a bet with my brother that he wouldn't give up, even under extreme pressure."

"But, Macy…" Stella lowered her voice. "You were trying to get rid of him for two weeks! And what about… you know…"

"That?" Macy snorted. "I can't do anything about that."

Stella left for class quickly enough and Macy was about to leave as well, but a hand around her wrist stopped her. She turned and saw Nick, standing there with a stormy look on his face. She flinched back when he spoke.

"Why would you ask him on a date after all of that mess?" he asked. "Why would you waste all of that time trying to get rid of him, just to ask him on a date?"

"I… I felt bad, Nick," she stammered. "He's really a very nice guy and what I did was… horrible. And I want to make up for it."

"So stringing him along when you're not interested is going to make up for trying to drive him away? I'm sorry if I don't understand that logic."

Macy wrenched her wrist from his grasp and he suddenly wished he could take back the words. It wasn't the right thing to say, not at this point. But what else could he do? He didn't want her going out with Randolph, especially if she didn't even like the guy.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? Are you jealous or something?" she shot back. Nick's eyebrows went up.

"Jealous? Hardly," he snapped. "I'm just worried that you're going to hurt this guy and yourself. He's going to find out the truth eventually, Mace."

With a final glare, she spun on her heel and stalked off.

12.

"How did we get to this point?" she asks, mumbling in a tone so low that he barely hears her. But he does and he wonders if he should have just let it go, let it fall, let himself live in denial.

Because, more than anything else, it's his answer that scares him. He can't explain it and yet he can't deny it and he wonders why he didn't see it before. Because this, what he's feeling right now, is so much more real than puppy love for the pizza girl or a meaningless crush on some girl at school. And as much as he hates to admit it, he can understand how Joe can spend weeks and months and years stalling in neutral. Because what they have now is better than nothing and opening his mouth and letting all of the words spill out and over and letting his heart float up, up, up means that if she says no, it has that much father to fall and this time, he won't be able to catch it. He'll never be able to catch it, because it's hers to catch. He handed it over the second they locked eyes, the moment their hands touched.

And so he opens his mouth, ready to let loose the words that will destroy everything he's spent the last few months trying to build, to take the plunge without so much as a flashlight to guide him, to prove to Joe that Stella should never, ever know the truth about how he really feels—when she speaks again.

"I'm sorry."

And even though the words should matter a great deal more, he finds himself concentrating on the tears in her voice and the way she chokes on the last syllable of the last word. He reaches for her, pulls her close, buries her face in his chest before what she said truly registers in his mind. And when it does, he only holds her tighter, eyes softening in expression and throat tightening so that he can barely respond.

"It doesn't matter," he whispers as he rubs her back and the tears begin to leak out and dampen his shirt. Her arms slide under his and she's soon clinging to his back.

"It does," she says. "Because you were right. I shouldn't have done it—I was stringing him along because who I really wanted wasn't showing any interest in me." She drew back and scrubbed at her eyes, smothering a hiccup. "He was always too busy falling for p-pizza girls or writing l-love songs about Amy-in-the-elevator or telling me that any guy would be lucky to have me when the one I wanted was right there in front of me and I couldn't tell him."

She's crying in earnest now and he's trying to help her calm down, trying to dry the tears, but she won't have it.

"No!" She pushes his hands away from her face. "Look, I just… I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have led Randolph on and I shouldn't have said what I did. I… Some part of me wanted—hoped, I guess… I wanted you to feel jealous. I wanted you to hurt; to hurt like I did when…" She trails off and sniffles and pays no attention when Nick opens his mouth to speak, running over him. "I know it's stupid and childish… but can you blame me?"

"Macy, stop," Nick says softly, running his fingers under her eyes to catch the falling tears. "You don't have to do this. It doesn't matter, I promise it doesn't…" When she still doesn't stop crying, he pulls away slightly and looks down into her eyes. He knows, right then and there, exactly what he has to say. "Ask me again."

She blinks and scrubs at her face. "W-what?"

"You asked me a question earlier. Ask me again," he insists. Macy gives him a questioning look, but he doesn't explain, just strokes more tears away from her eyes and gives her one of those almost-smiles. So she asks him again.

"How did we get to this point?" Her voice is slightly exasperated and her eyes are tired, as though she's tired of this game that neither of them knew they were playing.

Now he does smile. "Because I took your hand," he says, finding one of hers and holding it tight. "And fell in love with you."

The fingers laced through his grip his hand tight and a breath of air pushes its way past her lips. Maybe she isn't ready for love—maybe she's only ready for like—maybe she's just plain not ready. But then she smiles this big, beautiful smile and there's the song. The song, the song, the song that he thought Penny made him hear, the song that he tried to write for Maria, the song that he couldn't get out of his head. Her song, their song. And he almost doesn't realize it when his lips meet hers—except the crescendo reminds him of where he is and where she is in relation to him (and that is pressed against him as though they can't get close enough). And they're kissing and breathing and sighing and laughing and it's like the most beautiful music he's ever heard, except better because he's living it and breathing it and loving it…

But the best part of all is how she answers his answer.

"I love you, too, Nick," she says. "I love you, too."

THE END
(No, really. It's over.)

a/n: OHMYJESUS, this is actually done, isn't it?

THANKS EVERYONE who was involved, which is most of my friends. I wanted to keep this a secret from as many people as possible, but when writer's block hits, it hits. Thanks so, so much for sticking with me while I wrote this. I'm so happy that it's done with. :D

I'm not entirely fond of the end, except for the long, stream-of-consciousness paragraphs, because I love those. But IT'S DONE. :DDD

Tell me what you think? I've been working on this for four months, so I'd love some feedback... Just sayin'.

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE,
Babs