This one has to go to the Beatles, as they were my inspiration for my title. From now on, I will update every two weeks, as to save at least a small part of my sanity. Read and review, my friends!

Chapter 6: A Day In The Life of

"I hate him!" screeched Amy early one morning as she thundered into the Midshipmen's Berth. Lottie and Wellard looked up, startled. Previously, they had both been enjoying their breakfast at the otherwise deserted mess table. Upon seeing them, Amy froze, embarrassed that they had heard her loud exclamation. Then, after a pause, she sighed somberly. "Oh," she said, as if just noticing her friends, "Morning Wellard, Lottie."

Lottie cocked her head, knowing there would be a plausible- and most likely extraordinary- explanation for her friend's behavior. Wellard looked at Amy, concerned. He had never met a woman with such a fragile happiness before. It was quite intimidating. Amy stared into space, looking tense and tearful.

"Wellard, do you mind giving Amy and I a few minutes alone?" Lottie asked her companion softly. Amy looked like she was about to cry, which was something, as much as she liked having an audience, she would prefer to do in private.

Nodding understandingly, Wellard said, "Of course," and gave Lottie's hand a squeeze under the table. Though he didn't want to leave her, he knew it was best. Giving Lottie a small smile of encouragement, he left, tipping his hat to Amy sympathetically.

Lottie scooted over and patted the seat next to her. Presently, Amy plopped down. "What's wrong, Ames?" Lottie asked her friend gently.

Amy banged her head against the table. "He said that it would be pointless for a woman to take any leadership role- that it should be the man's job," Lottie could guess as to whom Amy was referring- a highly irritating Mr. Bush, no doubt. "He called me ignorant, saying that there was no way a woman would know how to be a leader. But," she said, jabbing her finger into the wooden table, "I told him that I knew how to be a leader- that I had been one several times. He then replied, 'Who would you ever lead, Miss Galloway?'," she said, mimicking her opponent's infuriatingly humorless voice. "Then, at that moment, the crew- busy swabbing the deck- got a bit careless and accidentally splashed that horrid dirty water all over me." Amy swallowed, and Lottie saw tears fill her eyes. "And then, he- he laughed. As did the crew! Not even bothering to apologize to me." She buried her head in her arms.

Lottie put a comforting hand on her shoulder, muttering lowly in her ear, "He's an arse, alright? Don't give him the time of day." Amy looked up, cheered by her friend's choice of words in the description of the enemy; it was not often that a discourteous term slipped from Lottie's mouth.

Lottie smiled. It had been a little over three months since the Renown had rescued them. Amy had befriended just about everyone aboard- even the powder monkeys. All seemed to adore her very presence, save Mr. Bush. It was exceedingly unusual for Amy to form an enemy, but for once, it appeared she had.

Amy wiped her eyes. "Thanks, Lot. I know I overreact to things like this, but I can't help it. I felt so embarrassed and- I love you like a sister, you know?" The two shared a smile. "I'm going back to bed."

Lottie gave her an incredulous look. "But it's already after ten!"

Amy puffed up defiantly. "I don't care. I'm not going to give that scum the satisfaction of seeing me like this," she gestured to her stressed and slightly damp attire, "On deck. Now if you'll excuse me, Lottie." Without another word, she pushed the curtain back and fell down into her hammock contently. Lottie just shook her head. There were some things she would never come to understand, such as Amy's acute stubbornness.

Nearly an hour passed before Amy emerged from her enclosed haven. She shoved the curtain aside, her curly hair replaced atop her head in a large bun and a coy smile plastered on her face. Walking up on deck, she glanced around to spot Bush holding a class for the not-so-eager-to-learn midshipmen and Horatio lurking up on the poop deck. An idea formed quickly in her mind, and she chuckled mischievously to herself. "Bad girl," she told herself aloud, causing Matthews to turn around to look at her curiously.

"Say something, Miss?" he asked, unsure whether or not her had heard her correctly. She just smiled sweetly- if not devilishly- at him.

"Pardon me, Mr. Matthews," she said innocently, and then glided across the deck, up the stairs and onto the poop deck. Spotting Horatio, absent-mindedly looking out across the back of the ship, she raced behind him and tapped his shoulder. He whirled around, fearing the Captain, but upon laying eyes on the charm before him, he smiled.

"Good day, Miss Galloway," he told her politely, tipping his hat to her in greeting. Never before had Amy thought of Horatio as adorable, but after looking into his warm brown eyes, she felt her opinion changing rapidly.

"Amy," she corrected him. No matter how many times she had told, demanded, and threatened, Horatio still could not get it through his thick head that he was to call her 'Amy'- not any of the 'Miss' nonsense. Horatio bowed his head apologetically. Glancing discreetly down at Mr. Bush- still busy with his 'class' of midshipmen- Amy smirked. Now or never, it was time to initiate her master plan. "Horatio?"

Horatio cocked his head. "Yes, Miss Gall-" he quickly corrected himself upon looking at Amy's face, "Amy?" Her menacing glare was swiftly replaced with a smile.

"I want to play, Horry," she said, using the nickname his to-be wife, in later episodes, would later call him. Though not original, the nickname was definably catchy, if not evilly suggestive. Her eyes now danced with enigma, thoroughly confusing poor Horatio.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, puzzled. Her only reply to his otherwise unanswered question was a mysterious smile. Without another hesitation, she reached up and swiped his decorated and highly overrated lieutenant's hat and sprinted down the stairs. "Miss!" Horatio shouted promptly, alarmed that his hat was in the hands of a capricious lady, who was now running dangerously close to the edge of the ship.

Glancing behind her for a split second, she saw five laughing midshipmen- one of them a disbelieving Wellard- circled around a scowling Mr. Bush. Amy's antics had evidently disrupted his long-winded lecture, much to the joy of the other midshipmen. Giggling triumphantly, she dashed down onto the second deck and backed herself into an out-of-the-way place, waiting for Horatio to find her.

Out of breath, Horatio approached her, holding his hand out expectantly. "I'm going to have to ask for my hat back, Miss," he said, and smiled. His eyes clearly said, I've got you now!

Wearing an impish grin on her face, Amy held the hat closer to her. "Not unless you kiss me, Horry," she told him lightly, though completely serious.

Horatio frowned, unsure that he had heard her correctly. "You want me to…?" he asked, and Amy promptly nodded, smirking. Surely there was a way around this! Horatio had always been somewhat awkward around women. To kiss a lady, alright- a very alluring lady- was out of the question. What if the Captain somehow found out? The punishment for messing around with one of his guests would be undoubtedly severe. "But- But can't you just…?" he sputtered helplessly. He was quite unsure of what to say. Amy just shook her head, a pout on her lips.

"If you want this back," she said, shaking his hat playfully, "You're going to have to kiss me."

Was there no way out of this? On second thought, she was very pretty. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Horatio rubbed his forehead. "Here goes nothing." Sighing, he leaned to kiss her. Their lips touched chastely for a solemn moment before Amy draped her arms around his neck and Horatio found himself reluctantly pulling her closer to him. The kiss had advanced to a much higher level than Horatio had ever intended. On the other hand, Amy had Horatio right where she wanted him. This was going to be so sweet, so very sweet.

"Mr. Hornblower?" asked a startled, and somewhat dismayed Mr. Bush. The two broke apart, Horatio with a horror struck look on his face and Amy giggling delightedly.

"S- Sir?" stuttered Horatio stupidly, clearly not knowing what to say. Amy took the following awkward silence as her cue to exit. She had played her part well, but now it was time to take a bow and allow the curtains of her stage to close- leaving her audience mystified.

"Gentlemen," she said, excusing herself. She ran a finger along Horatio's chest as she walked past the stunned lieutenants. Calling a suggestive, "I'll be seeing you," to Horatio and throwing a look of utmost contempt towards Bush, she made her way back up to the top deck.

Horatio quickly excused himself, leaving Bush thoroughly disgruntled and annoyed. The most insufferable of 'ladies', whom he had debated with incessantly throughout the voyage, had seemed to have had recovered from her earlier embarrassment. Which, Bush thought, was to be deserved after spouting off such impossible ideas. Now, she was back to her normal, playful self and had resumed her ridiculous games. Surely this flirting would only lead to evil! It was pure danger to toy with the men's affections. It was his sincere hope that the officers would be able to control themselves. The crew, however, Bush judged to not be as disciplined.

A feeling had risen inside him at the sight of his fellow officer kissing her, of all the women in the world. Recognizing this emotion as anger, possibly even jealousy, he quickly shook it off- repulsed at the idea. Him? Jealous? Never! However, if anyone should be kissing that impossible child, it should be him, and not anyone else.

Had he really just admitted that? Slip of the tongue, that was all. It was true that he was, as most would consider it, single. There wasn't a single sweetheart anxiously awaiting his return. Even so, it was Miss Galloway's business to be messing with the hearts of the men aboard, not his. The Captain had obviously accepted, or rather, chosen to ignore, her foolery. There was nothing he, a mere lieutenant, could do about it. He had to accept that it would be left alone. This did not comfort him, as he knew that he would have to tolerate her frolics for the remainder of the journey unsupported.

Up on deck, Lottie had hidden herself away in what she thought to be a clever position. She had found a hiding place along the bow of the ship. From here, she had a lovely view of the ocean and sky- both an optimistic blue. Though Cat had been the first to discover this place, Lottie had, for the moment, claimed it. Running a finger along the side of the deck dreamily, she sat down and closed her eyes, leaning her back against the side of the ship. The sun was warm and bright, making her sleepy. It was a flawless afternoon.

All three girls had settled in nicely since their stop in Plymouth. Everyone seemed to like them well enough, besides Amy and Bush being recently formed nemeses. The fact was, the crew did not know how to rightfully react to their presence. They didn't know whether they should treat them as royalty or equals. Nonetheless, Cat and Lottie had become nearly inseparable to both Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Wellard, and Amy with practically everyone aboard. It was seldom that were they found apart. Lottie was glad that she had made such allies for several reasons. It wasn't just because she now spent her time with what she thought to be the most amiable and handsome persons on the Renown, but because she now had knew she could be assured that she would be protected, from the crew or, if needed, from the Captain.

The ship had almost become a home to her, almost- but not quite. One of the major things she missed from her former life- besides her family and friends- was the music. If only she had been able to bring her iPod. Giggling, she realized the silliness of her former thought; it seemed pointless to imagine having such an invention now. "C'est la vie," she thought glumly. At the moment she had several songs in her head, the lyrics desperate to release themselves from her mind. It would have helped if she had been able to hear them.

In her head, she started to sing through the beginning of a song that had been repeating itself in circles for the last two days. Halfway through the song, she was no longer able to contain it, and began cautiously singing the words aloud. No one was around, no one would hear her.

There's nothing and no one we'll miss.

And one day, we'll look back with no regrets.

Please don't drift away from me.

We have to go a thousand oceans wide,

A thousand dark years when time has died,

A thousand stars are passing by.

We have to go a thousand oceans wide,

A thousand times against an endless tide,

Then we'll be free.

After the song ended, and her voice along with it, she sighed contently. Singing always helped her to relax and temporarily forget her troubles, no matter the emotion of the song. Remembering her sister, Elizabeth, had always gotten annoyed whenever Lottie randomly burst out into song, she smirked. She knew her sisters had tired of hearing her voice, but that hadn't made her stop. It had been fun purposefully annoying her siblings. That memory only made her miss them all the more. Even still, it was not as painful as before. Her nostalgia had subsided some. She knew in her heart that even though she would always remember her former life, she could move on and make the most of what this new life offered.

"You sing very well," a voice said, breaking her train of thought. Lottie's eyes flew open and she gazed upon the amused face of Wellard. She quickly stood up, brushing off her dress, flustered.

"Oh, I- I didn't know anyone was listening," she said, embarrassed. It wasn't like she thought she was a terrible singer, but she had always hated performing in front of people. It made her feel so open, so exposed. Cat and Amy had always said she was much too modest of her talent.

Wellard smiled sheepishly, "I must confess, when I came looking for you and heard such a voice, I could not bring myself to interrupt it." She had sung a quiet, sad song- filled with passion and yearning. Yet somehow it sounded distant, and unfamiliar. The only songs he had heard of late were rough and lively tunes played by a drunk and happy crew. It was quite nice to hear something different, something more serious.

"It's called Thousand Oceans," she told him. "I thought it was beautiful, so I learned it on our pianoforte." She smiled at the memory. "I remember my sisters would get it stuck in their heads, and go about the house, humming it all the time."

Wellard noticed the return of the distant, sad look that crossed Lottie's face every time her family was brought up. Usually she would become somber, and say very little. Perhaps it was the sunshine, or the blue sky, but today it seemed like Lottie wanted to talk about her past.

Taking a chance, Wellard asked, "Sisters? How many were there?"

"Just two- Elizabeth and Miranda," she giggled. "I don't know how, but they always knew how to make me so frustrated. I swear, they argued with me just for their entertainment. Though annoying at times, I loved them, and- I miss them terribly," she smiled faintly.

After a pause she asked, "Do you have siblings?"

A distant look very similar to Lottie's crossed Wellard's face. He knew she was only being polite, not trying to be nosy. It was just that he never really shared about his only sibling, his twin sister, Isobel. He had hid away a lot of himself and had rarely smiled after her death several years ago. Since he had met Lottie, however, he had smiled, really smiled, and finally had someone who would be patient enough to listen- and perhaps, understand. After all, Lottie was different. She carried herself differently than the typical 'lady' he had seen parading about before. No, she was kind- and she cared.

"I did, once," he answered her, at last. Closing his eyes, he brought to mind the smiling face of his elder sister. He had loved her more than anything in the world. "Her name was Isobel, but she was always called Issy. She was only a few minutes older than I, but she never ceased to boast that she was the eldest of us two. I loved her dearly- she was my best friend."

Here he paused, unsure of whether or not to continue. It wasn't a pretty story, and it didn't have a happy ending. Feeling a warm hand on his, he opened his eyes. Lottie looked at him, her eyes searching his.

"What happened to her?" she asked gently- her voice innocently inquisitive.

Sighing shakily, he swallowed, "After our mum died of the fever, I promised I would protect Isobel. And I did, or at least, I meant to. It was December, and we were cold, as well as rushed to get back home. We stupidly decided to take a short cut home through the alleyway."

Lottie looked at him, beginning to realize something. Surely he couldn't mean the same alleyway they had traveled through in Plymouth? The sad look in his eye told confirmed her thoughts.

He shut his eyes, as if wishing to block out the memory. "We were surrounded by a street gang. They fought me- a scrawny eleven-year-old. Isobel tried to get them off of me, but they were much bigger than she was. They pushed her away, and she slipped on the ice. After they had taken what they wanted, they left. I crawled to my fallen sister, only to find that she was no longer breathing. I guess she had hit her head hard, upon the ice. So much blood," he whispered, and slowly opened his eyes. They held more than just sadness. There was a desolation that Lottie had never seen with such intensity in anyone's eyes, much less Wellard's.

"I-" Lottie searched for words, rendered speechless by his tale. Sure, she had heard tragic stories such as this before, but now hearing from one who had actually experienced it brought things closer to home. It was true that he was probably one of many all over the world who had experienced death so young- but he was the first Lottie had known personally.

"I cannot imagine the horror," she said finally. Yes, her family had supposedly died and she would never see them again, but to actually see death, to see it happen so suddenly- that was something she hoped she would never know. Wellard bowed his head.

"I failed. Not a day passes when I don't remember my failure," he whispered mournfully, "I failed to keep my promise, to protect her."

"No," Lottie told him firmly. "You must not blame yourself for her death, Wellard."

"How could you possibly know?" he asked her coldly, and instantly regretted his tone.

Surprisingly, she did nothing rash- such as cry, scream or walk away. Her eyes simply glazed over, wounded.

"Forgive me," he said, angry with himself for being so tactless, "That was harsh."

Lottie told him carefully, "I suppose you're right. I don't know what it's like to lose a sibling, much less under such circumstances as your own. Although," she paused, thinking about her words carefully, "My grandfather passed away several years ago. Leading up to his death I always promised to visit him- it was advised because everyone knew his time was growing short. Somehow though," she swallowed, her voice cracking slightly, "I never got around to it. I always had other more important things to do- or so I thought. Later, after his death, I confessed to my mother that I couldn't believe I had been so stupid as to prolong a visit that ended up never happening. She then told me that in the end, when you look back at it all, remember the happy times you two shared, not your regrets. After all, that's what he'd want you to remember."

She shook herself, as if coming out of a daze. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling." Her face flushed, and she turned to leave, but stopped when she felt a firm, yet gentle, hand on her shoulder.

"No, Lottie. Perhaps you are right." Wellard bowed his head again, hiding his face. Slowly, a calmness returned to his face and the sadness was washed from his eyes. "Thank you."

Lottie nodded and squeezed his hand encouragingly. It made her cold inside to know that a life had come to an end so soon. She would have liked to have known Isobel; she sounded like a wonderful person. Wellard seemed to light up when he said her name.

Both had formed an understanding between the two of them. They were orphans- without family or wealth. Yet, they found solace and friendship in one another. Somehow, just looking at Lottie made Wellard think that everything was going to be alright; she was there for him, she believed in him, even if no one else did.

Lottie politely began to withdraw her hand from Wellard's, yet he only held on to hers tighter. The twosome stood in the comfortable silence of each other- holding hands.

"Ah- There you are, Mr. Wellard," called Archie as he emerged from behind several barrels. Lottie and Wellard quickly pulled their hands back to their sides, their cheeks coloring. Archie's eyes glowed knowingly. So that was how it was between them. He smirked at the awkwardness of the situation. There was something he sensed between Wellard and Miss O'Hara, something much more than just a wanton attraction. He must remember to talk to Wellard about this later. He couldn't tease the boy too heavily, however, in fear of being a hypocrite, as just recently he had held conversation with a young lady the very same place.

"Sir?" Wellard responded, wondering just how long his senior officer had been watching them. He knew he was going to be given a hard time about this later. Archie summoned Wellard back to the quarterdeck, and the boy reluctantly left Lottie alone.

Lottie giggled quietly as she observed the manner of the two. Archie's arms were swinging carelessly at his sides, where as Wellard's hands were firmly clasped behind his back respectfully. It sounded horribly girlish to dwell on the charisma of her dear Mr. Wellard- yet she found herself doing it anyway. Why did she have to be so in love? It was both a curse and a blessing. She found herself unable to think or concentrate on anything else when he was in the room. Likewise, it was hard to be serious when all she found herself thinking about was how adorable it was when he tipped his little black hat or how it made her swoon every time he said her name. And his smile- need she say more? It was beautiful and made her feel giddy inside. He was definably marital material, she had decided. Six months ago, the thought of being in love or marrying someone from a completely different century would have made her head spin in circles. But now, for some reason, the prospect of Wellard becoming her lover, or her husband, even, didn't seem all that unbelievable.

However, he was more than just a pretty face or an attractive figure- she knew that now. No longer did she see a shy boy who couldn't think for himself, but a confident and thoughtful young man who's character many were too impatient to discover. It had been different with her than other people. She had gotten to know more than the outward appearance. He had slowly opened up the pages of his tightly shut book, something that was obviously hard for him to do. Yet, he had trusted her with his thoughts, his emotions, his life story. Of all the people to open up to- why her? That was a question for which she did not know if she would ever have an answer.

That evening, Cat lay in her hammock, thoroughly bored. Her hammock swayed back and forth, none too gently, with the unsettled sea. Supposedly, she was reading a nautical book she had gotten from the small collection the midshipmen had gathered together. However, within minutes of beginning it, she discovered that it was impossible to concentrate on something she had not the least bit of interest in. "How does anyone read this junk by their own free will?" So now she laid, hands behind her head, alone in her dull atmosphere.

"Oh, what the heck!" she muttered aloud as she rolled off her hammock. Perhaps Archie was available. Lucky for her, she was quickly directed by a timid Horatio that Archie was in the wardroom- alone.

She now stood in front of the wooden door, somewhat nervous. What if there was some rule about not going into the wardroom? Of course, that wouldn't bother Amy, but Cat had never been one to act without thinking first or to break rules carelessly. Raising a hesitant fist to the door, she knocked quietly. Papers rustled and something creaked. More bravely, she knocked again, louder this time. "Well, intrude why don't you?" said a cheerful but preoccupied voice.

Shyly, Cat stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Turning around, she saw Archie seated on the bench that ran the width of the ship, hunched over with a quill and paper in his lap. Looking up, his eyes went wide with surprise. "Oh, forgive me, Cat. I thought you were Horatio again. He's always back for something he forgot." Cat smiled.

"All is well, Archie. What's that you're writing?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"Not much of interest, I'm afraid- just a much belated letter to my family. They are insistent that I write monthly, no matter where I am. What brings you down here?" he asked, motioning for her to take a seat beside him.

"Boredom, mostly. I gave up on trying to read one of those books on nautical terms; I couldn't understand a word it was saying- even if I did have half an interest in the writing." Archie cracked an absentminded grin, keeping his eyes on the page, but seeming as if he were looking at something else. Cat caught herself. "Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to interrupt you if your busy." With that she started to stand, only to be stopped by his hand, quickly placed on her own. Pleasantly startled, she sank down again.

He didn't know what had made him reach so fast. Just as quickly, he removed his hand, praying he hadn't offended her with the show of informality. "No, not at all. Stay, please. I'm almost done anyways, see?" Allowing her to see his nearly finished letter, he raised his quill and penned a hurried, "Yours affectionately and etc., Archie. There, I'm done now." He then opened a large leather bound book on his left and placed the letter inside.

"You know, you seem awfully distracted. Is there anything troubling you?" she asked, frowning. Well, it was an innocent enough question, but Archie felt reluctant to answer; he was pondering the fragility of the Captain's mind- so many things had gone wrong. While the poor sailor falling from the mast resulting from the Captain's furious order was still hauntingly foremost in his mind, that wasn't the only action that caused him to doubt the sanity of his Captain. The frequent, small exchanges and expletives all pointed towards the crashing of an unstable mind.

But to voice these concerns aloud would be considered mutiny, and though he had hinted at this to Horatio, Archie wasn't sure Cat would completely understand. Or even if she did, how could she grasp the gravity of the situation?

Seeming to read his thoughts, she told him quietly, "You can trust me, you know."

Yes, she was right. He knew he could trust her with anything, even his life. And his life would certainly be in her hands if he explained his thinking. Sighing, he rubbed his head jadedly, "I'm not even supposed to be harboring thoughts like this, much less discussing them." The sincerity in Cat's blue eyes was all he needed to continue, and his voice dropped to a hushed tone. "Something is wrong with the captain, or more so, something isn't right. The way he's been commanding of late has been rather- erratic. I cannot help but wonder about the condition of his mind." He outlined a few of the actions that had been plaguing his thoughts.

Nothing in her expression portrayed surprise. Was it possible that she had noticed it too? He continued, the relief of having someone listen unreservedly growing stronger, "And not being able to do anything- or say anything, even- is aggravating beyond measure." As he watched her, she stared at nothing, trying to think of a response.

"Surely you are not alone in this observation of the Captain?" Cat was careful to keep her tone questioning, instead of making a statement; she wasn't supposed to know the answer.

"Horatio, I believe, does, but seems quite resolute to keep any such reaction in check. As should I, really, but this is turning dangerous, and should not be ignored." In full steam, he caught himself and looked down at her face, taking in a breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to alarm you."

Cat looked up with such a dark concern in her eyes that Archie was almost startled. "I'm not frightened," she said, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I'm anxious, I supposes," she whispered, "If this is as grave as you say, what can you do about it?" she paused and then told him, "However, I have no doubt that you will do something. I have faith in you, in all of you." Looking up into his worried blue eyes, she smiled encouragingly.

Archie gave a resigning sigh, and felt some of the tension in his shoulders leave. It was odd, how those simple words sound so encouraging from her. It gave him a small spark of hope. "I don't know what we would do. If the doctor continues to deny the Captain's, erm, condition, we would all surely hang for any action. It is a nearly impossible situation." He gave an ironic laugh, and rested his chin on his hands. They were in a terrible situation, and there was nothing he could do about it. Cat slipped her arm comfortingly around his, not knowing what to say. Peaceful silence followed, and Archie stirred and turned to face her, a deep emotion and resolve reverberating in his blue eyes.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached over and gently brushed a stray lock of her hair that had drifted down from behind her ear. Cat felt his hand hover over her cheek, and remain in place. Archie smiled and gave a small chuckle. "My dear little Cat," he murmured, opening his mouth to speak, forming a simple question. "May I kiss you?"

Cat didn't dare believe her ears. Did he really have to ask? Of course, her answer was, "Yes," she breathed, so softly it was barely audible. With a dream-like elation, Archie leaned down and kissed her gently, but with passion underlying. Cat's whole world went in slow motion, including the beating of her heart. When they pulled apart a moment later, with Archie smiling down at her, her heartbeat sped to such a speed it felt as if it was no longer there. As her gaze met his, it seemed as if the very air around them formed a delicate circlet; one that couldn't be broken by a thousand pounds of force, but could be shattered by a single breath.

Ooo! A kiss! And perhaps more to follow… well- if you review! (I am so evil… *cackles*)