a/n: Try listening to what I wrote to: Mattia Cupelli- Love & Loss (works especially well in flashback scenes.)


4


Winter.

The snow was coming down in heavy sheets, quite literally blanketing the ground in white fluffy wonder. L watched the skies with half-lidded eyes, observing the grey clouds crumpled together like lead stained paper.

The whiteness of the paper bled from each cloud down to the Earth. Spilling it's purity down to the Earth where it would pile up until it melted away and died. The 'blanketed' grounds gave most a pleasant idea of warmth, but L saw what it really was. Wasn't it so human to use a word that gave the idea of warmth and comfort for layers of frozen debris?

"Ryuzaki...it's freezing out here. You should at least have a jacket on-..you're not wearing shoes? Ryuzaki, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to kill yourself."

L turned around slowly. That voice. The voice of the boy who he'd just previously been thinking over. Could he be? A killer of all things? Something inside told him yes without a doubt. His deductions continuously lead to him without any faults or fails.

Light Yagami.

His nose was tipped with a soft red hue, the color of twinkling Christmas lights, but other than that, his persistent perfection maintained. His brown eyes were looking at him with concern, but it could be real? A few days ago he would have said no. He would have looked into those eyes and disregarded every crinkle of his nose and every smile he offered. Every emotion he ever displayed was an act: a very good performance, of course, by all means give him a round of applause. However...

Now? L was unsure.

Looking at him now: could he really be a killer?

"It's below freezing out here, Ryuzaki."

Ryuzaki narrowed his eyes. He knew that. He had, after all, been doing this since he was young. Being wrong, dumb or slow would ultimately result in punishment should it effect anything badly. In this case, it had costed a life.

Naomi Misora was dead.

Was he trying to kill himself? No, not really. But was he trying to numb the eating guilt with sufficient punishment? Yes, there was no doubt.

He'd heard about her fiancé dying and it'd come as both a surprise and a personal blow to him. It'd lit a fire beneath him. Naomi Misora, a woman he personally felt he was somewhat indebted to, had lost her fiancée due to his incompetence.

Due to his inability to prove Light Yagami was Kira.

Now? She was dead. For trying to find Kira herself. And ultimately, whose fault was that? L could only come to one conclusion, one single deduction.

L's brow furrowed slightly and he turned back around to look at the pouring snow coming down in great thick heavy clumps. Purity falling, falling from the skies. Dark grey stretched above.

He turned around one last time and looked into Light's eyes and where a darkness had been that he'd recognized in one particular friend before, there now resided genuine concern.

No, the Light he was looking at now could certainly not be him.

"I suppose you're right..." L replied quietly, "...let's go back in."


4


"I don't mind the burns, you know.."

L opened his eyes slowly.

Still, black darkness, but he hadn't expected anything different.

At times he wasn't even sure that he'd opened his eyes at all and had to blink, feel his eyelashes against the cloth, to be sure that he'd opened them all the way. He blinked rapidly this time, just to be sure.

"...I've got pains too, ya' know?...Broke my back once...And when it hurts, I just take these little white pills. A friend of mine gave me 'em."

Who, L asked himself, was that speaking and what is it he was saying? It wasn't Method. He remembered a name...Kyba. This man sounded like he had half the intelligence and a sort of disposition in his voice that made you instantly uneasy. His voice was off, muttering in between words things he couldn't make out or understand.

But maybe that was just the side effects of whatever Method had drugged him with. He decided whatever he'd used was quick: both to work and wear off, but the new coldness enveloping him seemed to also be some sort of side effect and this was certainly not wearing off. In fact, it was getting worse. He felt his whole body shiver against the cool air surrounding him.

"You know words...don't you?" He gave a sarcastic little laugh.

L tipped his head upwards in acknowledgment, "I'm afraid I'm unable to...focus...at the moment...Water would help."

There was a few moments of silence and then he felt those same hands grabbing him forcefully again, "You're in pain. Lemme make it better."

L struggled against his grip, but his hands were too large, his strength far exceeded his own, especially in his current condition, and his fingernails were digging into his newly exposed skin making him almost too nauseous to retain consciousness. He could feel the thick hands surrounding his arms, wrapping around them with his sausage-like fingers. They were more effective than the restraints on the chair because every time he even budged, his grip got harder and more painful.

He stilled.

"No, all I need...is some water..."

"No. Look, you're gonna wan'em, L. They'll make this feel real good." His voice was shaky now, as though he was anticipating something.

"This? What do you mean th-?"

Two small bitter fragments and salty skin entered his mouth. His fingers pushed the two pills all the way down until he gagged against them. He swallowed after a brief struggle and took in large shaky breaths as the man quickly released him.

"What was that...?" L choked out his words, releasing them just below a whisper as his pupils constricted beneath the mask swaddled around his eyes.

Fingers brushed against his cheeks, gliding upwards slowly towards the blindfold. L's heart beat quickened, his breath becoming rattling shaky releases.

"Method told me not to take this off but...seems I just can't help myself."

For the first time since he'd been held captive, L feared his sight. Emotions, however, rarely got in the way of reason and reasoning told him he needed his sight back. It was truly and utterly his only and last defense.

He leaned into Kyba's hands, allowing him to move the blind fold up and over his stiff icy hair. L closed his eyes against the sudden light, piercing his eyes. He blinked and held them closed tight for a moment before attempting to open them again.

"Let me see them, L. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

He blinked a few more times before he felt his hands grab a hold of his head again, pushing him back against the wall. His calloused thumbs pulled his eyelids up and open and as L's eyes struggled to focus in the dim lighting, he looked into the man's face before him.

"Let me see them!" His voice turned hard and maniacal, screaming as though the devil had suddenly possessed both his body and voice.

L shook against his grip as he investigated his eyes. Grey shaking irises greeted him as the pupils begun to slowly grow in size. "Wha's...wha's..." L felt himself slipping faster and faster, his body beginning to relax in his hands.

He looked down to his hands as they lowered themselves to his legs.

The coldness...

...it wasn't cold, he was naked.

He looked back up, his eyes full of fear. His face was white, bright, flat like a moon. He licked his lower lip, right above his black goatee and shook out his long hair with the shining bald spot. His skin was ruddy and worn. He was somewhere in his thirties, but it was obvious life had not been easy for this man and it was also obvious, he'd made it difficult for himself.

His gold rimmed glasses shone in the light, his eyes behind them showing their hunger and their lust. They rose to meet his eyes again after searching his body. His smile came after.

L looked into those eyes back and felt bile rise in his throat, his hands shaking, his stomach churning. He felt burning in his nose. He saw evil looking straight into his soul, and his soul cried out to deaf ears.

Thirty minutes. Alone with this man, for thirty minutes.

He closed his eyes, wishing the blindfold was back on.

He didn't have any weapons...who was he kidding? His only hope was the others-

Kyba grabbed him and though L pushed against him as strong as he could, his best attempts were weak at best. He threw him onto a firm but cushioned surface that he recognized, after a moment, as a mattress. L felt his hands snaking up his body and he bit his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut. He shook and gagged in his throat as his stomach flipped with ever touch.

Lethargically, he attempted to push himself up from the bed but Kyba, as he was called, instantly pushed his face back down into the musty mattress. He cried out finally and yelled in desperation. There were no words, just noise. Noise to let himself know he was alive, this was real, this was happening.

This wasn't a dream, a nightmare. Watari would not be there to turn on the lights, shake him awake and tell him: 'It's ok.'

His hands reached his neck and made it their way into his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging.

L's heart was racing, beating up into his mouth, his body quivering and seizing as his fingers trailed across his burns. It no longer hurt, but it left a cold trail of a reminder that the man was there...behind him...about to...

He closed his eyes...

He swallowed his defeat...

Again.

He screamed against it. He'd expected it, he knew it was coming within seconds. But the pain that flooded him was unbelievable...unimaginable...

"And a virgin? This's too good to be true...it won't hurt after a while..."

With every slam against his body he released a scream until his screams died down into nothing, into silence and pain and the musty smell of the mattres took over his brain in a giant wave of fog.

He went in and out of consciousness. Between the present and the past, he teetered on the edge and when he closed his eyes, he saw the darkness.

And the longer he looked into the darkness, the longer it looked into him.

And it felt right...

The door opened slowly. He wasn't sure how long it had been; he stopped counting the thrusts when the pain had cut him off from reality. L moved his head towards the noise. Two men stood in the dark doorway. One said something with a voice like asphalt and the other walked in. L didn't even notice when Kyba had stopped but knew he had when he appeared in front of him, zipping his pants and winking and laughing and...

L closed his eyes.

"...I think you see now..." Method said slowly, as though regretful, "...I'll do whatever I have to."

L re-opened his eyes as the other man pulled him to his feet. He focused his gaze on the silhouette of Method as he stepped forward, into the sticky yellow light of the room. L's eyes shakily watched him, his hands in a pair of dark jeans, his eyes cast down to him with a hard look in them: a look that appeared to be forced. His lips were pressed in a line, looking his face over critically with those electric blue eyes.

L looked at him with just as much determination in those few moments of silence. Every fiber in him he wanted to recognize him.

But he didn't.

Staring at each other, taking each other in: L knew what Method's message was.

He didn't care if he saw him, if he recognized him. It didn't matter. It wouldn't matter.

Method moved his hardened gaze over to something across the room and he blearily watched him retrieve his boxers and jeans from a small pile in the corner.

Weapons...?

What weapons...?


L sat still.

The door closed. The lights were off. The television was no longer a vague glow on the other side of his blindfold, but was very real now. He saw he was in a warehouse, the television was new, and the task force was desperately attempting to get him to speak. All of this he saw.

He didn't observe.

He didn't even try.

"Ryuzaki. I know you can hear us." Light demanded with determination in his every word, "Ryuzaki."

L didn't budge...his mind was focused stoically on the cold trails down his back. It felt as though his fingers were still there, crawling up and down his skin and his hands gripping hard onto his torso and-...

He could, however, see Light from his peripheral vision. He was leaning into the camera, eyes watching him on their own screen. His hair was in a disarray: a sight rarely seen of the younger Yagami. " Ryuzaki, if you don't feel like talking about what happened, at least tell us...Did you recognize Method?"

Kyba's phantom fingers were gripping into his skin. His sweat mingling with his own...his blood mingling with his own...

"Ryuzaki!"

His glasses shone in the light...he remembered his eyes again...the way he looked at him like a new toy, like he was just meat and bones, a mindless, lifeless pleasure object. He looked him up and down like it was everything and all he needed.

And it disgusted him over and over.

He remembered the way it felt...

...nobody forgets their first...

...isn't that what they say?

The heart monitor he'd been reattached to whispered: stop...stop...please...stop...

Here was the night. It took him whole and ate him alive.

Night brought fear.

It wasn't the darkness. It wasn't the things that crawled in it either. It was the memories that always, always, came back to him.

Flooding back to him, drowning him, and there was no escape. He was in a sea of black, his reel of memories playing against the grainy dark sky. There was a boat. A boat to safety, security, warmth. But he missed it every time. No one threw him a line.

He was drowning again tonight.

Letting blackness eat him alive on the rooftop of another hotel, he looked out at this city. A city that never slept, but neither did he. He thought the lights would help him. The flickering movement of cars and the glow of neon signs in the distance.

The hotel room gave him an odd feeling. A feeling of containment and imprisonment, like a song bird in a cage.

Quillish was here with him on his first case away from the orphanage. Though outside The House, he was Watari. A nickname, the older man had relented once, he'd picked up during grade school in Japan. For them, it was easier to pronounce than Quillish Whammy. He'd been raised on a military base for most of his life, having been the son of an Army doctor. He had experienced, during this time, some of the worst forms of xenophobia he'd ever known.

Here was the sky, watching him back. Watching him suffer and watching him curl into himself beneath the giant red sign of the Belmount Hotel.

A was dead.

B was a murderer.

L was just trying to find life inside of himself.

He remembered his parent's faces like yesterday. They were busy, but he was loved. They didn't always have time to hear him say he hated school because of the black eyes and scrapes he gained when he went. They didn't always have time to tuck him in and read him stories or make it to every conference or...

...but they always had time to say, 'I love you.'

He remembered A's face. And in fact, it was just yesterday he'd seen it. Looking into his eyes and him looking back with a smile. Snarky and smirky and mirthful. But never was there sadness. Never was there anger. Never was there hatred. Never had there been a monster looking back at him when he looked into those eyes. Not like B. He accepted life just as he did. Life was...darkness...and sadness...and emptiness...

But they were assured of making the world better. They were promised that in the future, they'd be able to serve justice and equality. Make sure no child suffered they way they had. And that gave the both of them hope.

B was uninterested in what he considered to be 'tall tales'.

Well...L had to ask now, on top of this rooftop in the cold, where was his justice when he opened A's door and found him with a handgun in his palm? When the image of his half-intact head burned into his memory? He screamed Whammy's name in his naivety and inexperience when he saw it: he'd never seen a body in person. He'd never smelled the odor of a freshly murdered corpse.

A door opened and a gust of air caught him.

There he stood. The man with smoky white hair and the smell of a vanilla hard-candy. He had a confused expression across his face. He looked to him and cocked an eyebrow. "L, what're you doing up here?"

His arms were wrapped firmly around his legs, holding them to his chest and trying to keep himself together. Keep the pieces from falling apart. Watari's footsteps were the only sounds carried by the wind as he walked slowly towards him, hands in his pockets. A habit he himself had started to pick up.

Watari watched him cautiously, his eyes studying his hunched body, before he decided to sit beside him. Watari had always been a master in the arts of reading body language.

After a moment, his arm fell across his shoulders and L, in his usual manner of doing things, released his legs hesitantly and paused briefly before throwing his arms around the older man.

They were weak, but Watari's were strong.

Here was his line.

L's eyes didn't leave the floor. It had gone quiet for a few moments when he finally took in a breath.

"Watari?" His voice was full of hopelessness.

"Yes, Ryuzaki." The voice came instantly and in contrast, was full of hope, "I'm here."

"Could you tell me...what day it is?"

"The twenty-fifth."

"Then...there is a phone call... Please, remember..."

"Ryuzaki..." Watari whispered, eyebrows furrowing at his nonsensical directions, "...Ryuzaki, please, tell us what happened."

L watched the ground, staring at the grey brushed concrete, looking at the stains that spotted and smeared the ground. Patches of blackness and rusty browns that faded into the grey the longer he focused on them...

There was a foggy black darkness that surrounded his brain, a feeling of instability in his chest and in his blood. His breathing was erratic, his heart rate escalating. And he didn't know why, but he though he could feel his body almost begin to decay. He was, for lack of any better word, dying.

He was, without a doubt, dying.

"You killed me."

L looked up, fear and devastation in his eyes. He released a shaky breath, and searched for the source of the voice but his vision was severely out of focus. His pupils had still not returned to normal size: they were the size of olives, almost completely ridding him of irises all together. This was obviously a side effect of Kyba's pills, but he was not listening to the voice of reason inside of him, instead he was listening to this voice now. The voice of A.

"Please...forgive me for my slowness..." L watched the small figure walk forward from the darkness just behind the television screen, "...I was too slow..."

"What do you mean, Ryuzaki?" Light asked cautiously, a careful evenness in his voice, "There's still a way out of this. We'll get you out of this. You know we're doing everything we can to find you, but we still need you. We need you to hold it together for a little longer."

"...B may have done the nasty deed. But it was you. You who didn't try and stop him. Why? You knew. You knew and did nothing!"

L's eyes grew wider, his mouth shaking with words he wanted to say but couldn't allow to leave his mouth. "I suppose your right...after all..." L whispered, "...But I suppose...I just didn't want to believe it..."

"It's true, Ryuzaki." Matsuda said quickly, "We do need you. And-"

"No...Matsuda, wait.." Light murmured, watching Ryuzaki intently for a moment. His eyes were focused elsewhere, looking intently at something beyond them, "I don't think Ryuzaki's speaking to us."

"Huh?" Matsuda looked to L's panicked gaze to Light, "But then who would he-?"

"Matsuda!" Chief Yagami's fiery gaze fell on him and Matsuda shrunk back, lowering himself and folding his hands together nervously.

"Sorry, Chief..."

L's eyes watched something distantly.

"...I didn't react in time...I wouldn't have let him do it if I knew." L whispered calmly, and then as though it wasn't possible, his eyes grew larger.

Behind the figure of the TV came a much taller one. A hunching man with a large mess of hair and large baggy clothes stood before him. His hands were deep in his pockets. He took another step and both L's voice and breath caught in his throat. The glow of the television consumed his face and there staring back at him were a set of dark red eyes and an eerily familiar expression of deep rooted, dark hatred.

L pulled against the restraints once and then froze again, staring with pure disbelief, "B...? But...how could this be? You died, I saw your body...unless..."

"Ryuzaki, B is dead. Ryuzaki focus on my voice." Watari spoke carefully, every word with a heavy weight attached to it, his eyes boring into the camera with a memory deep inside of them.

Seeing him now: his eyes distant and gone from him, with terror in his every trembling word, reminded him of the boy he'd found. Who feared the world and the future alike. And he remembered promising him all those nights ago, at twelve years old, that he'd protect him. He remembered the years it took to build his trust...he remembered the nights of nightmares and then how much worse they got after B...

But most of all, he remembered the day he first promised him safety and security from the evilness of the world.

Twelve years old.

The boy sat across from him, looking at him with his dead grey eyes. Whammy looked to him with an expression as dead as his own: an expression that said, you don't have to pretend for me. I understand.

'My name is Quillish Whammy...I'm going to bring you somewhere safe. Is that alright with you?'

His unresponsive gaze tested him. He appeared free from all emotion. It was a scary thing to see in a boy so young, but it was not the first time he'd seen it and unfortunately it was also not the last time he'd see it in his lifetime: he knew this.

He reached his hands across the table top, placing them on his and something inside ignited within the boy. His eyes gained life. He looked to him as if it was the first time he'd noticed he was there. He watched carefully as the man picked his hands up gently and held them within his.

'I'm going to bring you to a place where we can protect you. Where you'll be very safe from the world.'

Quillish had dealt with dozens of orphaned children by this time and if he knew one thing from all these children's crying and emotionless faces alike, it was that they all wanted one thing: security.

Even the youngest of them sought nothing but security, normalcy, safety. Love and affection could come later.

The boy looked up into the elder's eyes and then after a second, he carefully pulled his hands free without meeting any resistance. His eyes didn't hold any fear or anger: just a thick shielded, well guarded wall.

Twelve years old and he looked at him with all the pain the world could offer.

'I'm going to be the one who protects you now. I'm going to be the one who keeps you safe.'

He remembered every case...every tear...every life lost...every victory...

He remembered vividly looking at him now. It was, in a cliché sort of way, watching his life flash before his eyes.

"...hallucinating..." L whispered eyes snapping to the television screen, his voice was helpless, not much different than the voice of his younger self that Watari had remembered.

The door opened again and the hard clicking of shoes alerted L someone else was in the room, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen. There was Watari. Smoke-white hair and blue eyes: he watched him carefully, cautiously, with an expression that told him to remain calm, he would be safe.

Lights flickered on and a hand suddenly was in possession of his chin. Method holding it with his thumb and the side of his pointer finger, he pulled his face closer towards him. His eyes told him a story of worry.

"Did Kyba give you something?" He studied L's reaction, but there was none, "Hey: listen to me...did you take anything?" His voice showed through the urgency but L couldn't respond. His tongue was stuck somewhere in the back of his mind, his eyes beginning to roll closed.

He forced him to look up to him, into the light, and he couldn't help but close his eyes in response to the sudden pain of the light flooding his senses. However, Method caught them in those few seconds: his dilated pupils, giant black circles stretching to the entire circumference of his irises, was all the proof he needed.

"Damn it."

"What did he give him?" Light asked, eyes focused on the back of the man's head which was covered in short wavy red hair, thinning and fading to orange with his age, "Hey, answer me!"

He let L go and moved with fervent, determined steps back towards the door, closing it behind himself.

"Ryuzaki! Ryuzaki, speak to us!"Light yelled, "Damn it, what've they done to him?"

"We gotta find him soon, Chief. We gotta find him!" Matsuda yelled worriedly, "Chief, he's gonna-"

"Matsuda, keep quiet!"

Method came back onto the view of field for the task force and was back at his side with a small bottle, tipping his head back, "Drink this." He said quickly, "Come on, drink it, kid."

"Don't do it, Ryuzaki!" Matsuda called out, his mind instantly turning against the man who held a suspicious looking glass in his hand, pressing it forcefully to L's unwilling mouth.

At this, Method turned around with an angry gaze, his bright blue eyes could barely be seen in the dim lighting, but the anger held in them was clear and evident. If it wasn't, for those with poor sight, the anger could certainly be heard in his thunderous voice, "Do you want him to die? Because that's what's going to happen here! He's dehydrated, half-starved, and overdosing right about now you moron."

"What is it you're trying to give him?" Light intervened before Matsuda could respond, the look on his face a half-way point between being offended and apologetic.

"Ipecac." Method said lowly, "We gotta get whatever's left of those drugs out of him, then we'll worry about food and water. Get him to drink first though, or he's going to die here."

L shook against the restraints unwillingly, the chains beginning to rattle.

"Do you understand? He's going to die here!"

Ryuzaki could hear words floating around him. Voices that described death and screamed at each other and demanded answers. More answers? He could hear these voices, could hear the anger and pain in their words. But he couldn't make out the words themselves. Their voices encircled him like a wreath of smoke, ambiguous yet burning against his ears.

He just wanted to close his eyes. Protect himself from the visions surrounding him. The voice of B taunting, haunting...

"Ryuzaki, Ryuzaki, Ryuzaki." He said it three times in something akin to a chant, "Oh, Ellie. Give in and let go. Come on, we both know it's better this way. What better way to die? Let your first unsolvable case be your death. It would make sense wouldn't it? Your only unsolvable case actually killing you. Literally." He gave a laugh that reminded L of only one thing.

Death.

Death: it was close...imminent...

He felt himself fading into a grey light, a dark grey was encapsulating him like no warmth ever had. It was a safe feeling, a secure feeling...

"L."

Watari.

His eyelids paused, centimeters from being closed. Slowly, he begun to re-open his eyes, feeling his head being tilted backwards, held firmly by the chin. He could barely hold his heavy lids open, but he did as much as possible; he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the voice to continue.

"L, open your mouth...Drink it."

Something was set in his lap, something hard and hollow and empty...

He opened his mouth. Not to drink anything, but to say something. To ask B a question that he forgot as instantly as he'd formulated it. Instead, something gushed down his throat and the same hand that hand forced this glass bottle into his mouth also shut his mouth closed with a single hand, pushing his bottom jaw against the top. He allowed it to flow down in bitter syrupy waves.

Whatever Watari said...he could trust...

His head was guided towards the hollow object by a single hand and he felt a familiar sickening churning brewing inside him. The smell of the metal surrounding his face stung his nostrils and he lurched forward, emptying all the contents of the stomach into the bucket.

He heaved and gagged again and again, feeling every bit of acid bubble up and out of his stomach.

He gripped the chair again, feeling the waves of nausea begin to cease after a few minutes. The hand guided his backwards again gently. It almost reminded him of Watari. When he was sick, the way he brought his head back up from the toilet bowl.

Water touched his cracked lips and he accepted it instantly, guzzling it until he assumed it was gone and then after a few seconds, he regained some of his energy.

He opened his eyes a little wider. He listened for any instruction, but instead saw a bar being broken into small pieces, it was offered against his lips after a moment. He waited for the voice to tell him that it was ok.

"Eat it, L."

He allowed it to pass and chewing it, found it was some sort of protein bar. He ate all of it piece by single piece and afterwards, Method stood to look over his regaining heart rate. He looked down to see L seemingly asleep and turned back to the screen to face the people of the task force, looking back at him with unsure expressions.

"I didn't mean for that to happen..." He whispered in a surprisingly empathetic tone, "...but if you want to prevent it from ever happening again, you'd tell me his name, Watari."

"If you were sorry, you'd let him go!" Matsuda replied, frustration obvious and evident in his every word, "What did Ryuzaki ever do to you? Whatever it is...it doesn't give you the right to do this!"

Method's eyes didn't change, "I'll do anything to get the answers I need. Anything. Instead of trying to break him out of here, you should focus on getting him to comply with the rules." He paused and turned away, slowly making his way towards the door, "Should something like this happen again... I'd like to let you know...I warned you."

With this, he closed the door behind himself and all that was left was L. His head turned downwards, his hair a black mass that concealed his face. They could barely see him in the blackness that had taken over the room.

He sat there in that chair... silent...unmoving...

Darkness swallowing him, taking him whole.

Eating him alive.


This was a long one, admittedly, but not the longest chapter I've ever wrote. I think the longest one I've ever wrote (for any story) was somewhere close to 8,000 words. Haha! This one, if you're curious, was 5,784. ;D

Also, please leave a review if you're enjoying this? You could review with a single: yay or nay if you're pressed on time. I just like to have some kind of human interaction with my readers, you know? Let me know if there's things you'd like to see, or if there were certain thing you liked so I can keep that up. Don't worry about sounding weird: I'm the weirdo here. I promise. Lol!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and this rare A/N. I don't leave them very often.